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rhe Gift 

Of Bonaparte 


A NOVEL 


ROBERT SHORTZ 

AUTHOR OF 

“A PASSING EMPEROR’’ 


NEW YORK 

THE HOME PUBLISHING COMPANY 

3 EAST FOURTEENTH STREET 




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■Ck 


4 

A* 







The GiFTfjuNv iayb ''"Ji 

\. /a. . 

Of 


3 *^ 

Robert Shortz 

AUTHOR OF 

“ A Passing Emperor,” etc., etc. 


BonapXrto 


A NOVEL 


BY 



NEW YORK 

THE HOME PUBLISHING COMPANY 
3 EAST FOURTEENTH STREET 

COPIES RECEIVED- 




2nd COPY, 
1898. 


Copyright, 1898, 

By a. C. GUNTER. 


A U rights reserved. 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE. 

BOOK I. 

THE BEAUTY OF PIEDMONT. 


CHAPTER I. 

“ITALY LIES BEFORE YOU ! ” 

“ Soldiers^ you are naked and hungry. I am going to 
lead you mto the most fertile plains that the sun beholds. 
Rich provinces and opulent towns ivill be at your mercy., 
you IV ill find there honor., glory, and ivealth. Soldiers of 
the Army of Italy, zvith such a prospect before you, can you 
fail for France 

The harsh, barking- voice of old Colonel Billot ceased 
abruptly. 

Seven hundred green-sleeved, gauntleted right arms 
rose in the air, the rays of the declining sun blazed 
back from the polished blades of seven hundred fran- 
tically brandished sabers, and from seven hundred 
throats there burst a yell, wild and exultant as the full- 
tongued cry of a pack of famished wolves in sight of 
their quarry. 

Far and wide along the plain it ran, that 
thundering, significant shout, as regiment after regi- 
ment took up the call and the rocky hills about 
Albenga echoed and reverberated the answer of the 
army to the first proclamation of the chief new come 
to us from Paris. 

As the troops marched in from review on the after- 
noon of that 19th Germinal in the year IV. of the 

5 


6 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


French Republic, one and indivisible, but to speak in 
the language of the outside Monarchies and Priest- 
hoods, the 4th of March in the year of Our Loud, 1796, 
every pair of eyes belonging to the fifty thousand 
ragged soldiers, arrayed beneath the stained and worn 
tricolored standards shone with the hope of plunder ; 
every stomach felt itself filled with macaroni Neapoli- 
tan and the well-seasoned ollas, the appetizing ragouts 
of sunny Italy. 

For months the army of the Alps had starved and 
suffered, its officers practically without pay, its men 
almost without rations, its horses with scarcely feed 
enough to keep their bones within their skins. For 
months we had held our positions among the barren 
and uninviting hills of the southeastern frontier, grimly 
awaiting the approach of the Austrian who threatened 
constantly to invade our beloved France. 

Our time of inactivity was past, and on the morrow 
we were to move forward, to sunny Italy, where 
food and booty would be the reward of valor. 

At last we had a General who showed us prey ! 

After stables, when we had finished rubbing down 
and caring for the rough-coated, ill-fed troop-horses 
that had borne us patiently throughout the after- 
noon, I started to walk into the town in company with 
Private Pierre Santron and Renaud Broiisard, other- 
wise called Poignet d’Acier, chief mditre d'ar 7 nes of our 
regiment, the chasseurs-a-cheval of Damremont. 

“Well, my Georges,” said the last-named, passing 
his left arm over my shoulder and keeping step with 
me as we left the building, “ what think you of the 
bulletin we heard out yonder .? ” 

“Great words, were they not, Renaud.?” I 
answered with enthusiasm. “ As I listened I ached to 
be using my saber on the Austrian white-coats.” 

“Aye, they gave one that feeling, there is no doubt,” 
Poignet d’Acier agreed with a hard smile. '*Sae- 
a-papier! but he knows how to make men thirst for 
battle, that General Bonaparte ! ” 

“They’re a different kind, however, his words, 
from those they fed out to us before the campaign of 
Valmy,” put in Pierre Santron, who walked on my 
left. Then, one heard nothing but ‘For the Repub- 
lic,’ and ‘ ’Tis sweet and beautiful to die for France,’ 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


7 


and the like. They fulfilled the purpose as well, too. 
Had it not been for them Td be at home in Brittany 
this moment, with a sound coat to my back instead of 
this well-ventilated green jacket, that has almost as 
many holes as it has buttons.’' 

“And the regiment would be the poorer for a good 
comrade,” I returned, with a kindly glance at his 
homely, honest countenance, which, despite its little 
eyes of bright blue, turned-up nose and bristling red 
mustache, I knew to belong to a brave and sturdy 
soldier. 

“But tell me, then, Pierre Santron, how it comes 
that a bulletin is responsible for your presence here,?” 
I continued. 

Diantre ! but that is simple enough, ” Santron made 
reply. “Though most of Brittany rose in revolt against 
the Republic and took arms for the tyrant Louis Six- 
teenth, in our commune the people loved their country 
above their king. So when the news came that the 
Prussians had enieredla pairie, our mayor held a meet- 
ing at the town-hall and asked for volunteers to go and 
fight them. Like a fool I went to the assembly out 
of curiosity. Dayne ! there were girls there, the pret- 
tiest in the land, waving the tricolor. And the band 
played the Marseillaise, and the people sang, and the 
mayor made an oration. It was too much for me. I 
was the first to put down my name as a recruit.” 

“And very properly done, parbleuf” remarked 
Poignet d’Acier. 

“Not thus thought my good old father,” Pierre San- 
tron grinned back. “He was a man of peaceful dis- 
position, and he ever hated talk of war and battles. 
When I went home at noon-day he was awaiting me.” 

“‘I hope, Pierre,' says he, ‘that the cursed non- 
sense they are yelling themselves hoarse over in the 
village has had no attention from thee .? ' 

“‘Why, not exactly, my father,' I told him, ‘not 
exactly.' 

“ ‘ Because,' says he, ‘Jacques Chopin cried tome 
as he rode by tliat 'twas a fine thing the name of San- 
tron should head the list. ’ 

“I saw he knew, then, and I grew red and stam- 
mered, for like all Bretons 1 had great regard for my 
father.' 


8 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


“ ‘Indeed, mon pere,' says I, ‘indeed, I had no 
thoug^ht to become a soldier when I went to the hotel 
de viUe, but Monsieur Bonmarche — our mayor — talked 
of France, and the tears ran from his eyes, and I felt 
sorry for him, and so — ’ 

'' Tete bleu! how furious my father was! 

' Sacr-r-r-e t ’ shouted, ‘and thus it was that thou 
enlisted then, because Monsieur Bo^irnarche wept! 
Imbecile, pig, dolt, donkey, wooden-head that thou 
art ! Dost not know that as for Monsieur Bonmarche 
’tis all that he will do, stay safe at home here and cry ? 
while idiots like thyself will be running against the 
Prussian bullets 1 Thou wert ever a fool, Pierre, and 
thy folly would bring thee to grief without a guardian. 
So to watch over thee, Pve enlisted myself! ” 

“What!” I cried with a shout of laughter, “your 
good father went to the wars also, Pierre Santron ? ” 

“Fie met his death at Fleurus, with his teeth fast 
locked in the throat of an Austrian cuirassier. We had 
to bury them together. Canst say as much for thy 
father, Sans-barbe ?” Santron asked suddenly, with a 
faint taunt in his voice. 

I bit my lip and gazed straight ahead. 

“Tis from him, without doubt, that thou got’st 
those white hands and that air of the grand seigneur f 
the Breton proceeded. “A fine legacy for a private of 
chasseurs! He might at least have left thee a name 
besides, this unknown father of thine, who, for all thou 
canst tell, may — ” 

'' Daine! wilt thou hold that biting tongue, then, 
Pierre Santron.?” impatiently broke in Renaud Bron- 
sard. “ Let the boy alone, I tell thee. Ifhe know not 
who was his father, is not Georges Luc a name good 
enough for any man in the regiment.? And if skill in 
sword-play be hereditary, as / believe it is, he has 
something for which to thank his ancestors. Take 
care that thy words do not move him to prove it upon 
thy clumsy carcass.” 

“Ha, ha!” Santron laughed, giving my arm a 
friendly pinch, “dost hear that, Sans-barbe.?” The 
maltre d'arfnes is playing the peacemaker and trying 
to avert a meeting between us. Tis the first time I 
have ever heard Renaud Bronsard talk in such fashion.” 

“ There is reason for my mood,” promptly responded 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


9 


Poignet d’Acier. “Had this happened a month ago, 
Georges would have had every encouragement from 
me to spit thee, like the great goose that thou art. 
But now, with the campaign opening, he might as 
well save his steel for the Piedmontese and the Kaiser- 
licks. Moreover, the new commander-in-chief casts 
no favorable eye upon dueling. I hear that orders 
against the practise will be read to-night at parade, 
and that those who disobey are promised the fusillade. 
And hark ye, the little Corsican means what he says.’' 

“ I have never seen him, Renaud,” I said curiously. 
“ What fashion of man is he, then ? ” 

“ Thou’lt never forget him once thou hast gazed 
upon his face," he answered. “As to his appearance, 
he’s not much to look at. But face and form go for 
nothing in a soldier. ’Tis deeds that should speak for 
him. Bonaparte took Toulon, they say, and though 
Barras had command of the troops of the Convention 
on the 13th Vendemiaire, ’twas really the artilleryman 
who crushed the sections. As a reward, the Director 
got him placed over the Army of the Alps, instead of 
Scherer." 

“They say in the army that his marrying Madame 
de Beauharnais had as much to do with it," Pierre 
Santron observed with an air of affected simplicity. 

“ And how ? ” I demanded, for I generally paid little 
heed to the gossip that occurred among my comrades. 

“Oh, she is a great friend to Barras, and he natu- 
rally wished to do something for the man she chose as 
a husband. When thou art a member of the Directo- 
rate, Sans-barbe, wilt give me an army if I marry 
Mademoiselle Cosette, the daughter of Baker Jar- 
beau } ’’ 

I colored, while Santron screamed with laughter at 
my blushing cheeks. 

“Silence gives consent, so I may yet hope to com- 
mand an army of France," he cried. “Remember, it 
is a promise, and I know thou’lt keep it, for thou hast 
that habit in common with other traits of the old 
noblesse . " 

Saprisii I hwi you disgust me, Pierre Santron,’’ I 
said angrily, “you are forever calling me an aristocrat, 
when you know I am as loyal a son of the Republic 
as any in the regiment. As to making good one’s 


lO 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


promises, should not the word of a sans-culotte be as 
scrupulously fulfilled as that of a king?” 

As 1 spoke the last word 1 spat upon the earth. 

Santron nodded his head so vigorously that the two 
long plaits of hair that fell over his cheeks from either 
temple waved in the air, despite the bits of lead attached 
to them to keep them in place. 

The maitre d'armes regarded me with a smile that 
grew gradually sad. Then as if to turn the subject 
he remarked : “ Peste, boy ! you’ll have something else 
to think of to-morrow than bragging that your ancestors 
never wore breeches when we meet the Austrians ! ” 

“Bah ! ” I answered, smiling with the defiant confi- 
dence of youth, “though they were twenty to one 
against us, are we not Frenchmen ? You both know 
that we have but to cross the mountains and Italy is 
ours. “Think of Italy and the wealth we will gather 
there.” 

“ Again Monsieur le grand seigneur shows himself,” 
said Santron, stopping and making a low bow. “ They 
always took all they could lay hands on. I pity the 
citizens Italian who come under thy grip, Sans-barbe. 
In accordance with my degree I shall seek something 
to eat instead of riches. But now bonjour, citizens, rhy 
way lies toward the camp. Tell Mademoiselle Cosette 
she will some day wed Pierre Santron, Sans-barbe, as 
needs must be since Italy lies before you ! ” 

“Yes, Italy lies before us ! ” muttered both Bronsard 
and I. 

And the gleam in our eyes told the mercy Italy 

WOULD receive. 


CHAPTER II. 

THE WOMAN OF THE PLACE DE LA REVOLUTION. 

The maitre d'armes and I stood for a few moments, 
watching the clumsy figure of Santron as he made his 
way across the plain toward the camp. With his broad, 
stooping shoulders and bowed-out legs, his bulky body, 
upon which his gay chasseur uniform sat ungracefully 
enough, he looked anything but the ideal light horse- 
man. 

Far different was it with the man beside me. 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


1 1 

Renaud Bronsard was not tall, nor was his frame 
especially powerful ; but he was well-knit and active, 
graceful and light of tread as a panther, and his 
muscles had the endurance of steel. His carriage was 
erect and military, with a certain indefinable swagger 
in it that seemed to belong to him of right as one of 
the best swordsmen of the army. Across the bronzed 
cheek and determined jaw ran a thin, white seam, the 
scar of a Uhlan s saber at the battle of Valmy. In every 
respect he looked exactly what he was, the personifica- 
tion of a dashing trooper of France. 

An inkling that some such thoughts as these were 
passing through my head evidently came to him ; for, 
after a glance at my face he twisted up his mustaches, 
and squared his shoulders. As we resumed our walk 
townwards he remarked: 

“A good comrade and a faithful friend is Pierre 
Santron, but Dieu / what a figure for the light cavalry ! 
Ha, ha, 'tis comical to realize.” 

“The post he’d adorn, to my fancy, would be the 
tail of a plow. He’d be an ornament there,” I said, 
the spice of malice in my voice. 

“ Bah, Georges, thou’rt sore at him for his flings at 
thy manner of a gentleman. Never lay that up against 
him, my boy. He did but jest with thee, for he is 
among those in the squadron who love to enrage thee 
to see the blood fly into thy smooth cheeks ! Wert 
thou in peril Santron would bare his blade to thy help 
on the instant. And let me tell thee that thou might’st 
have much worse assistance.” 

“But he called me an aristocrat, Renaud,” I ob- 
jected. “’Tis a way he has, he and others, that is 
not to my liking. Why should they mock me and hail 
me ' monseigneur' } No one of them has danced the 
Carmagnole more heartily than I. No one is more 
eager to shed his blood for the Republic. Why, then, 
should they not deem me as much sans-culotle as 
themselves .? ” 

“ Dost think, Georges, that were the blooded charger 
of Barras hobbled alongside the hacks we ride in the 
regiment here the brutes would take kindly to his 
company.? ” Poignet d'Acier asked with a smile. 

“I am not talking of the steed of the great Director,” 
I returned impatiently. “ And if by citing such a case 


12 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


thou rt hinting that I be of more upstart blood than the 
others, ’Its not true! A thorough citizen of the Re- 
public am I from spur to shako, A has les arisio- 
crates! Vive t egalite I Thou knowest that such are my 
sentiments. 

“ Aye, I know,” Renaud Bronsard said with a laugh. 
“But suppose thou ivert an aristocrat, Georges. 
Would it not be then ‘ vive le rot’ with thee t ” 

par Dieu / it would not. France before 
everything. Td never raise hand for the Bour- 
bons, who could not keep the throne when they 
had it.” 

“Yet many gallant swords are still drawn in their 
cause, Georges,” W\Q^maitre d' ar??ies s>\g\\ed. “ Many a 

brave heart still fights and hopes for their return. 
What a help they’d be to us here if they’d but come 
and fight under the tricolor ! ” 

“ The sons of the people can do without their aid,” 
I asserted proudly. “We’ve shown already that 
courage is not confined to the noblesse. Ere we have 
peace, once more all the world shall know how 
peasant soldiers can fight.” 

Renaud Bronsard laughed again. 

“Peasants ! ” he repeated after me. “Well, yes, I 
suppose that is what thou and I are, my Georges. 
Though there’s little of the child of toil apparent in the 
white hands Pierre Santron joked thee about but 
lately. And as for myself I’ve had naught to do with 
the fields in my life, save to strip them of forage for 
my horse.” 

“I know well thou hast been a soldier all thy life, 
Renaud,” I said enviously “Can I ever hope to be- 
come such a one I ” 

“ Thou’lt arrive there in time, never fear,” he reas- 
sured me. “Even now there’s scarce a better blade 
in the squadron. When I’m through with thee thou’lt 
fence like — Hein! what a cough I have ! ” 

“ Like whom, Poignet d’Acier ” I demanded, as he 
ceased clearing his throat. 

“Like a certain captain I served under in the old 
days of the monarchy,” he said drily. He had a 
guard no point could pass, and his lunge I never saw 
parried. Some day, Georges, I hope to make thee as 
good as he was.” 


/ 

/ the gift of BONAPARTE 1 3 

“But his name, Renaiid ? Thou hast not told me his 
name,” I repeated. 

Dame!” he answered, wrinkling his brows, “but 
I have forgotten it. Names never stick in my poor 
brain. At any rate thou’lt have time to become his 
equal before thou’rt dead. How many years can’st 
count now, Georges.” 

“ Eighteen,” 1 returned, with a sigh. “Would that 
I were nineteen ! ” 

« “And why nineteen .? ” he demanded curiously. 

“Because Pierre Santron would then be only /hree 
years older than I, instead of four” I said. “ For each 
year the red-haired Chouan assumes a century of su- 
periority. And to see him handle that frightful mus- 
tache of his one would think him a general of division. 
'Tis sickening to watch him twist it while he talks to 
Co to a girl I would say.” 

Ha ! So the Breton visits the house of the baker 
also,” grinned Renaud Bronsard. “Em afraid thou’lt 
never be satisfied until thou hast a mustache like his, 
my Georges.” 

“Like his! Nay, Renaud, I’d not carry that bris- 
tling brush of ugly red hair under my nose to be a 
sergeant,” I rejoined sullenly. 

For several paces we walked in silence. “Georges,” 
ihe niaiire d'armes suddenly demanded, “dost ever 
think of thy childhood.? Do thoughts never come to 
thee of thy life before I knew thee .? ” 

“Never, Renaud,” I said with prompt emphasis, 
“ or if they do I drive them away on the instant. 
Tliey are not pleasant to look back upon, those times 
of hunger, rags, kicks, and curses. Thou* canst not 
blame me for not desiring to encourage their recollec- 
tion. ” 

“ Nay, my boy, I meant not to firing up /hose days. 

I know well how wretched thou wert when I saw thee 
for the first time, a half-naked gamin of the Paris 
streets. Dost remember, 'twas in the road before the 
National Convention. Thou and another young imp, 
leaders apparently of rival factions among your fel- 
lows, were tearing the eyes out of one another for — for 
a crust. Dieu ! but you fought as furiously as they did 
at Jemappes. ” 

“And I beat him well, did I not, Renaud.?” I 


14 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


laughed. ^‘Sacri! I always feel in the mood to 
finish what I have begun.'’ 

“ Perhaps that strain of thy nature comes to thee 
honestly,” the rnaitre d’armes observed. ‘"But we 
were talking of the years before thou earnest to Paris. 
Dost recall none of the people and the places thou 
sawest then ? ” 

“ Aye, I mind me of old Rigaud and his beast of a 
wife,” I returned with a snap of my teeth. “They 
were kind to me, long, long ago, and I think at one 
time they were a trifle in awe of me. They got bravely 
over such feelings. I remember well the day old 
Mere Rigaud first beat me. She said, — hold, I can re- 
peat her very words. They were ‘ Since there is no more 
money come to pay for thy keep, and thou art no 
longer a source of profit, I may as well have some fun 
out of thee ; so jump while I give thee the whip, thou 
cursed little ’ — ” 

I stopped abruptly in my speech, turning a pair of 
startled eyes upon Poignet d’Acier. 

“Well,” he said impatiently, “what ails thee.? I 
see nothing in what the old wife said to cause thee to 
stare at me as Captain Mirador does at the ankles of 
every shop-wench. What has thee.?” 

“Nothing, nothing, Renaud, ” I said confusedly. 

“ Nay, it was something. Out with it at once,” he 
commanded. 

“ Well then, here it is. Only, don’t laugh, Renaud. 
But upon my faith, the word of Mere Rigaud to me 
was ‘ thou cursed little aristocrate •' ’ ” 

The lips of Renaud Bronsard were tightly compressed 
for a moment and then widened into a smile. 

“Bah!” he said lightly. “People called every- 
thing that displeased them thus in those days.” 

“True, Renaud, I never thought of that,” I replied, 
much comforted. “Why, now that I remember, I 
have heard her call the pig, or the donkey, even a 
block of wood that turned her ax by the name.” 

“And so she beat thee, Georges, the Mere Rigaud,” 
he said in musing tones. 

“Aye, that she did, and her husband also,” I re- 
sponded, “till I split the head of Pere Rigaud with a 
stick from one of his own fagots, and bade them adieu 
forever. Then I came to Paris, penniless and un- 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


15 


friended and had well-nigh died of hunger and expos- 
ure, for I slept in the streets wherever night found 
me.” 

“ Sang-Dteu ! ’’ it is a mystery to me how thou wast 
able to live,” put in the niaitr'e d'arnies. 

“I managed it,” I said proudly. “ ’Twas notso hard 
after I grew used to the ways of the town. On the 
day that thou chanced upon me, Renaud, 1 was fight- 
ing my way to the post of c\\\Qi gamin of our section.” 

‘‘I bless the hour that I saw thee, Georges,” he 
answered with emotion. “ I liked thy manner of fight- 
ing and thy air and tongue reminded me of — of an old 
comrade of mine. So 1 took thee for my own. Thy 
history from that day I know well. How my old 
mother cared for thee until thou wert of an age to join 
the regiment, when I sent for thee and had thy name 
entered upon the rolls of the squadron. A private thou 
art now, but under the new order of things I hope to 
see thee one day wearing thy epaulets.” 

“ Thoudt see it, Renaud Bronsard, or thou’lt waste 
a few tears over the body of Georges Luc,” I said con- 
fidently. “ One or the other I am resolved upon.” 

“But tell me, my Georges,” Poignet d’Acier insisted, 
“ hast thou no memory of the days before thou went 
to the dwelling of the Rigauds } Canst bring to mind 
no person nor place thou knewest before the wood- 
cutter had thee in charge ” 

“Renaud,” I answered slowly, “there are some 
things, but it seems to me that they must be dreams. 
They come to my brain even now, at times, yet so 
dimly that they can never have been real. Visions of 
a great and splendid chateau, of a wide park and trees 
as mighty as those at Versailles. At rare intervals I 
see the place still in my slumbers, and then I am al- 
ways a little, little child. And there is a woman there, 
a woman with great blue eyes and golden hair.” 

“Like thine own, my boy ” interrupted the veteran, 
his face paling under its mask of tan. 

“Nay, Renaud, eyes and hair more beautiful than 
ever mortal woman had, and a face and voice such 
that makes me her worshiper. While I dwelt with 
the Rignauds I saw her often in my sleep, indeed 
almost nightly at the first. She many a time appeared 
to me as I crouched shivering in the doorway of 


i6 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


some inhospitable Parisian mansion, or nestled, more 
happily, at the bottom of some empty box or barrel. 
To think of her, in those days, was my greatest happi- 
ness — I — 1.” Then something came into my throat 
and I seemed to choke. 

Poignet d’Acier coughed awkwardly as I paused. 

“ Well ? ” he said impatiently. 

“Renaud,” I proceeded in unwilling accents, “thou 
knowest well what one could see daily upon the Place 
de la Revolution during the bloody September when 
they shaved the aristocrats. I need not tell thee that 
we street urchins were always at hand, curious to view 
the show, rollicking about, shouting and jeering at the 
knitting women as they clicked their needles in time to 
the whiz of the knife. ” 

“Aye, trust a boy fcr being everywhere that he 
should not be,” grunted the maitre d’armes. 

“Well, one day I was there, close up to the guillo- 
tine. The throng was so dense that I could not see 
the scaffold. I cried out and demanded that so good a 
patriot as myself should be aided to view the deaths of 
our tyrants. My impudence caught the fancy of a 
giant sans-culotte. He seized me, and raised me to a 
seat upon his shoulder, crying to the people to look at 
the young incarnation of the national spirit. They 
cheered me, but I, unheeding, gazed eagerly toward 
the next of the condemned. 

“ Renaud, a woman^ was upon the platform. Her 
eyes she had directed to the skies, but at the cry of the 
people she turned them to where I sat, upheld by the 
filthy ruffian, and our glances met. She smiled and 
held out her hands to me — and they dragged her down 
and bound her upon the trestle. As they grasped her, 
her eyes gave the first caress I can remember. I strug- 
gled to go to her, but the sans-culotie held me fast, and 
raising me high above his head, he forced me to watch. 

I saw the knife descend and the basket held another 
head. Then the brute placed me on the ground and 
impelled me into the crowd with a hearty kick. After 
that I never went to see la Guilloiine. When the tum- 
brils rolled I fled from them. ” 

“But I see nothing unusual in all this,” Poignet 
d’Acier said, glancing at me uneasily. “ The heads of 
many women fell in the days of The Terror ; and I 


THE CxIFT OF BONAPARTE 


17 

have often myself seen the men hold up gamins to 
mock at them. Why, then, shouldst thou recall this 
so particularly ” 

“ Because the woman of the scaffold was the same I 
had seen in my dreams, Renaud Bronsard,'’ I answered 
solemnly. “There was no mistaking her. And she 
knew t7ie, too. Was it not strange } ” 

The maitt'e d'armes swore under his breath, but he 
made me no answer. “And so occasionally I wonder 
over the matter,” I went on, “and now, whenever she 
comes to me at night ” 

“To the devil with thy dreams and wonderings,” 
broke in the veteran testily. “'I'hink no more of such 
foolish visions. I leave thee at this corner. ” (For we 
had entered the town.) “ See that thou art in time for 
thy fencing lesson to-night, a^idnotten minutes behind- 
hand as thou wast yesterday.” 

“ ril be there, Renaud,” I promised, half offended. 
“ If I fatigued thee with my recollections, forgive me. 
'Twas thou who started them by asking of my parents. 
I would that I knew who they were, Renaud,” I added 
wistfully. 

“ Chut ! thou hast all the parents a chasseur of Dam- 
remont could wish. What kinder mother canst thou 
ask than La Ripublique ? what better father than the 
Tricolor.? ” 

With a wave of the hand he left me, and I gazed 
wonderingly after him, for the veteran’s lips were twitch- 
ing, and I thought I saw a tear upon the bronze of each 
of his scarred cheeks. And my lips began to tremble 
also, and my eyes to grow dim — for this recollection of 
my early life was all that ever took the sans-culotie out 
of me. 

Tossed, a child, into the streets of Paris, where every 
one seemed to hate Parisiocrate, I had learned to hate 
him also — though I had had no intimate acquaintance 
with his class, man or woman. Had it not been for 
military training, I had been as great a leveler as old 
Marat himself. 

The tough school of the Army of the Alps had put 
little of Christian tenderness into me, but the memory 
of this woman, who caressed me as she died, always 
made a milksop of me. When I thought of her I won- 
dered whether the religion of the Priests, who preached 
2 


i8 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


tenderness and forgiveness was, if not better, at least 
as good as the worship of the Goddess of Reason. 

But to these things 1 had given little thought. My 
mission in life, as I read it then, was to obey without 
hesitation the commands of my officers, to see that my 
weapons were kept in the highest state of efficiency, 
to give the best of care to the wretched bay mare 
entrusted to me by the Republic, and to throw my 
whole heart and soul into the fencing lessons I took 
under Poignet d’Acier. 

It mattered little to me that our enemies outnum- 
bered us and our leader was as yet untried. Far more 
important to my peace of mind was it to be certain 
that my graceful black cloth shako with its orange 
pendant should be set upon my powdered head at the 
most military angle, that my green jacket, trimmed 
with white braiding and adorned in front with five 
rows of convex buttons, though sadly worn and 
weather-stained should yet show off my wiry figure to 
its best advantage ; that my broad sash of green and 
orange should lie smooth about my waist and be 
coquettishly knotted behind the left hip ; that my 
trousers should fit tight to the leg and disappear with- 
out wrinkling into the legs of my tasseled hussar boots. 
En fi7i 1 wished to be a hon~gargo7i with the girls, a good 
soldier for the Republic, to have a strong guard and a 
riposte like lightning for my own honor and my own 
safety — and besides I wanted a mustache so that I 
should be called sa7is barbe and boy no more. 


CHAPTER III. 

BEAUTY BY THE WAYSIDE. 

The next day came the order to march. Before us 
lay the lower Alps, held by the Austrians — twice our 
numbers. But what cared we .? Beyond the mountains 
and the hostile bayonets lay the fertile fields of Lom- 
bardy and the treasure-house, cities of Tuscany — food 
and wealth for a starving and unpaid army ! 

On the morning of the 20th Germinal (April 9th), 
our second squadron moved into the enemy’s territory 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


19 

and advanced en reconnaissance along the road to Valtri, 
preparing the way for the division Laharpe. Sixteen 
chasseurs Sergeant Roussel formed a flanking 

party, and followed a broad path that wound through 
the forests far to the left of the squadron s line of 
march. 

ith this body I rode, and Poignet d’Acier was by 
my side. 

“The little man they sent from Paris turns out not 
so badly after all, eh, Georges.?” he observed, while 
our horses plodded soberly along the unvarying ascent 
of the way. “ He’s managed to give us better filling 
for our stomachs than we had before he came, he’s 
procured us some little advances on the arrears of our 
pay, and now it looks as if he’ll have us at work before 
long. Despite what they tell of his curious taste in 
affairs matrimonial, vive General Bonaparte ! ” 

“ Did’st thou not hear them say last night at the 
Bonnet Rouge,” I whispered to Bronsard, “that this 
twenty-six-year-old Bonaparte told our old generals 
that they knew not the art of war.?” 

“ Aye, boy ! ” chuckled the mattre d'armes, “ I heard 
how the pale-faced little artilleryman suggested to the 
fierce Massena, the brilliant Laharpe, the bull-dog 
Augereau that they could not fight. And diable, he 
proved it by tearing to pieces their last campaign. 
He can talk, Georges, that little general, only let 
him fight half so well and Italy belongs to us. Biom 
d'un pipe ! While I listened to his bulletin I felt as I 
did at Jemappes, when Dampierre gathered the broken 
battalions and they charged singing the Marseillaise ! ” 

“ How I’d like to have been there ! ” I remarked re- 
gretfully; “ what great things it has been your lot to 
see, Renaud!” 

“Much good you’d have done, my boy, ” laughed 
Poignet d’Acier. “Not that you’d have run, your 
blood is warrant for that. But you’d have stood little 
chance with the Kaiserlicks at fifteen. Now, thanks 
to what you’ve learned from me, you might come off 
well if you had to do with an Austrian recruit.” 

“A recruit indeed ! ” I said in tones of indignation. 
“Wait; only wait, Renaud Bronsard, and I’ll show 
you that I don’t fear the biggest horseman that wears 
the white coat” 


20 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


“Oh ! you’ll prove a perfect Achilles, I’ve no doubt 
of that,” he returned, with a twinkle in his eye. 
“ Must not be too savage though, Georges, and for my 
sake must refrain from eating all thou killest. ’Tis a 
pity that the custom of putting prisoners to ransom 
has fallen into disuse. After one campaign thou 
would st be able to buy half Paris.” 

“ VVe may be able to do that after all,” I observed 
gaily. “ What was it the general said about wealth 
awaiting us in Italy ? ” 

“Never count on that, Georges,” the maitre d'arjties 
replied somewhat sourly. “There’s wealth and to 
spare, but there’s little of it that will come to our 
pockets. I’ll wager five to one that within a few days 
there will be strict orders out forbidding all plunder. 
Those who gain riches in war must have rank even 
above that of a colonel. And ’tis a pity, too, for in 
this land of Italy there is no lack of gold and silver. 
Sang-dieu ! what wouldn’t I give for an hour’s pillage 
of the cathedral at Milan ! Think of it, Georges, they 
have there life-size statues of saints and angels in mas- 
sive silver ! ” 

“No telling what may arrive,” I said consolingly. 
And my eyes shone with the same greedy light that 
flashed in the dark orbs of Poignet d’Acier. 

“Not that this looks like a promising district for such 
pastime,” Poignet d’Acier averred, regarding the forest 
road with disfavor. 

The country through which we were marching was 
mountainous and thickly wooded. The road climbed 
over hills, descended and crossed ravines, wound 
around spurs of the mountains and traversed level 
plateaus. 

It was after twelve o’clock when we topped a rise in 
the road and came suddenly upon an open space. On 
one side of the way the ground had been bared of trees 
and underbrush and was divided off into several small 
fields. In their midst stood a low, white-walled farm- 
house, with a thatched roof, from whose wide chimney 
a curl of smoke rose into the air. 

Two women in peasant dress, with bright-colored 
kerchiefs on their heads stood in the doorway, shading 
their eyes with their hands, as they regarded us. One 
of them presently withdrew into the house 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


“Behold a chance for a hot meal that I sha'n’t 
neglect/’ Sergeant Roussel declared, and with a shrill 
whistle he recalled our advance and the flankers. 

Riding leisurely down the narrow lane we pulled up 
before the house and swung ourselves from our sad- 
dles. 

The woman at the door stood with folded arms, sur- 
veying us with a dull and apathetic eye. She was 
beyond the middle age, brown-skinned and wrinkled, 
with thick gray hair showing under her gaudy head- 
dress. She did not look poverty-stricken, as so many 
of these mountaineers do. for on her toil-hardened 
hands were several thick gold rings, and heavy circles 
of the same metal hung from her ears. Her dress, 
though of coarse materials, was strong and new, and 
her apron and head-covering were worked in flowers 
of many-colored silk. 

The sergeant had left a chasseur on guard at the 
entrance to the lane. Ordering another to take his 
station beyond the house in the direction of the woods, 
he addressed the woman. 

“Good day, mother," he cried in the mountain y>a- 
/ozs. “I and these men with me are tired, and would 
rest by your fireside." 

“You may enter," the woman replied stolidly. 

The sergeant clanked through the doorway, and we 
followed close at his heels. 

The room we entered was wide and low, and by the 
daylight that struggled through the small, diamond- 
.shaped panes of the two windows and the blaze of the 
fire that burned on the hearth, we could see that though 
the appointments of the place were rude they were 
scrupulously clean. The hard floor of mixed earth and 
mortar had been swept, the long wooden table and 
the stools and benches standing about had been 
scrubbed, the plates and crockery on the dresser in the 
corner reflected the light of the fire. The walls were 
without ornament, save for a rude painting of the 
Madonna that hung in the center of the chimney above 
the fireplace, and a long gun, with powder-flask and 
shot-pouch attached, that rested in slings on the wall 
opposite. 

This weapon, I judged, probably belonged to a 
sturdy young fellow who sat on a stool before the fire, 


22 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


and who seemed to take no notice of our coming, but 
continued lazily watching the blaze with his back 
turned toward us. The young female, whom we had 
seen when first the house was sighted, was not visible. 
Probably she was beyond a closed door set in the 
farther wall, that doubtless led to another part of the 
house. 

Sergeant Roussel strode across to the sitter before 
the fire and clapped him rudely on the shoulder. 

“Tis comfortable ground you’ve taken up, no 
doubt, my lad,” he cried, “but you must move your 
camp and make way for your superiors. Draw off to 
one side, and let the warmth get to me and my chas- 
seurs” The young fellow rose at once and gave place, 
displaying as he did so the proportions of a splendid, 
almost Herculean figure. Indeed he was a regular 
giant, and towered head and shoulders above every 
man in our detachment. He was a handsome young 
peasant, too, with a well-shaped head covered by 
locks of curly black hair finely set upon his broad 
shoulders. His face was by no means intellectual, but 
his expression was mild and good-natured, his manner 
humble, and he seemed to bear the sergeant no ill-will 
for ousting him from his place by the hearth. For the 
rest, he wore the dress of a mountain hunter, short 
jacket, wide breeches, leathern gaiters reaching to the 
knee, and heavy shoes with the soles well-furnished 
with nails. 

“ Come, old girl,” the sergeant went on, addressing 
the woman of the house. “ We’re hungry, and will be 
all the better for some hot food. Get the pot on the 
fire at once, and give us the best you have, too. 
Sacr'e ! It’s not every day that you have the honor to 
entertain soldiers of the Republic.” 

Whether the woman appreciated the honor our pres- 
ence conferred upon her dwelling she did not state ; 
but she went to work briskly enough at the sergeant’s 
command, and soon the pleasant fumes of a stew of 
meat and vegetables began to fill the apartment. 

While our meal was being prepared, we lounged 
about the room, chatting, yawning and wishing that 
the food were ready. The young Italian had retreated 
to a corner and sat examining us with an air of child- 
like curiosity that it was amusing to note in one 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


23 

of his years, for he must have been over twenty- 
five. 

At last the woman addressed him, ^and from her 
speech it appeared that she was his mother. 

“The dinner is cooked now,” she observed. 
“Hither, son Rocco, and aid me prepare the table.” 

Rocco moved at her word, and in a few moments a 
number of bowls filled with the stew were smoking- on 
the table, one for each man. We drew up benches 
and stools and began to eat with ravenous appetite. 

Sapnsti, but you’re a wonderful cook, mother!” 
Sergeant Roussel declared, after eating a few mouth- 
fuls. “Better fare than this one could not ask were 
he a member of the Directory ! ” 

The old woman made a grimace that was intended 
for a smile. Evidently she was pleased at the compli- 
ment. 

“But it’s dry work, eating with nothing to wash the 
food down,” Roussel continued. “Can’t you find 
some wine about the house, mother.? Ill wager that 
one who lives as well as you do has not an empty 
cellar.” 

The woman drew a key from her pocket and left the 
room by the door I have mentioned. In about five 
minutes she returned, bearing a large stone jug. 

Rocco placed drinking cups on the table and his 
mother proceeded to fill them. We drank, and found 
that the liquor was not to be despised. It was wine of 
the country, strong but palatable. Every chasseur 
seemed to relish it, and the woman was kept busy 
replenishing our cups. 

Sergeant Roussel, who had already disposed of three 
glasses and who wanted a fourth, was not slow in 
noticing this fact. 

“You need help in serving us, mother,” he cried. 
“Where’s the petticoat who was with you when we 
rode up.? Trot her out, and let her aid you to fill our 
goblets. If she be young and handsome, so much the 
better. ” 

The old woman hesitated. 

Before she could answer Rocco spoke, for the first 
time, in a strong, deep-chested voice. 

“It must not be ! ” he said resolutely. “ It were not 
well that the soldiers should see Aliandra. ” 


24 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


“Must not be, you do^ ? ” shouted the Sergeant. 

Sac-a papier ! Bring her out at once, do you hear, 
hag.? or mayhap I’ll take the fancy to see what sort of 
a bonfire this hovel of yours will make.’' 

What effect this speech of the Sergeant’s would have 
produced I cannot say, for at this moment the door of 
the inner room opened and the cause of the discus- 
sion appeared before us. 

Involuntarily I arose from my chair, and uncon- 
sciously I did homage to the woman who entered. 
And she was worth it. 

The girl was perhaps seventeen years old. Her 
stature barely reached the middle height of her sex ; 
but her form, graceful as a fawn’s and straight as the 
line of a battalion on parade, made her look tall. Un- 
der her coarse peasant dress were a hundred beauty 
curves of perfectly proportioned shoulders, swelling 
virgin bosom, pliant waist, hips of a Psyche, and 
wood-nymph’s limbs. She had laid aside the kerchief 
worn upon her head while she stood at the door, and 
her face was plainly visible. Truly, this countenance 
was one of wondrous loveliness. 

Though she kept her eyes fixed upon the floor her 
head was too haughtily set upon her white, rounded 
neck to give her an altogether humble appearance, A 
mass of raven tresses crowned it, confined beneath a 
golden net. The forehead they shaded was broad and 
low, its ivory hue enhanced by the jetty lines of her 
perfectly marked eyebrows. Long, curving lashes 
swept down upon the adorable cheeks whose faint rose 
tint grew deeper as a low hum of admiration passed 
round the table. The nose was slightly aquiline, its 
contour admirably chiseled. The small mouth would 
have been imperious in its expression had the mind of 
the girl been free from alarming doubts, but now the 
lips, like scarlet blossoms, were trembling slightly, de- 
spite the firmness of character promised by the strong, 
white chin. 

She came forward with an easy carriage, yet with a 
certain air of shrinking timidity that made my heart 
beat in sympathy for her. Her little feet made scarcely 
any sound upon the hard floor, and I noticed that 
instead of the clumsy sabots of the mountain girls she 
wore a pair of coquettishly dainty slippers. Up to that 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


25 


day I can truthfully swear that I had never dreamed 
there could be such a pair of ankles as the short peas- 
ant skirt displayed to me. 

d'he hot blood surged to my head and I trembled in 
every limb as two great, dark, appealing eyes had 
flashed a sudden glance into mine. I was the only one 
who had risen. 

She spoke to Rocco in a musical, sonorous voice, 
whose accent betokened a breeding and refinement 
that seemed to me like a memory of the past. 

“ Be patient, good Rocco,” she said. “The work is 
too much for Mother Giannetta, and it is but fitting 
that she should have aid. ” 

But, lady-. — ” he began. 

“Hush!” There was command in her tones, and 
he was silent. 

Taking the flagon from the hands of the old woman 
she moved swiftly about the table, deftly refilling the 
cups held out to her by the chasseurs. 

All of the men appeared impressed with her loveli- 
ness, but none so greatly as Sergeant Roussel. He 
drained to the dregs the goblet she filled for him and 
then held it out for more, rising as he did so. 

“To your health, my beauty ! ” he cried, his face 
red from what he had imbibed and the fire of unholy 
desires beginning to kindle in his eyes. “To your 
bright eyes I drain this cup, and devil take the man 
who’d not risk hell for them I ” 

As he spoke he attempted to pass his arm about the 
girl’s waist. 

With a quick twist of her body she evaded him and 
sprang beyond his reach. Then, her head thrown 
back, her face white as death, her eyes blazing scorn- 
ful disdain, she faced him as haughtily as any empress. 
Her bosom rose and fell in swift emotion, and her 
breath'seemed to come between her lips in rapid gasps. 
A moment she stood there, her small hands clenched 
upon the flagon, the very personification of insulted 
maidenhood. 

Then her mouth set in a thin red line, a wave of 
crimson flooded her neck and face. She dropped the 
jug, made a step forward and dealt the astonished 
Roussel a ringing slap across the mouth. 

At the same moment Rocco uttered a furious impre- 


26 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


cation and sprang toward the gun that hung on the 
wall. But he did not reach it. Three chasseurs were 
upon him in a twinkling. I remember well the men 
who seized him. They were Jean Guyot, Pierre David 
and “ Loup,” ruffians long inured to scenes like this. 
They bore him back, but collecting his strength he 
seemed about to shake them off when Amedee Grenier 
dealt him a savage blow on the forehead with the butt 
of a pistol. He fell under the stroke and lay senseless 
upon the floor, the blood gushing all over his rigid 
face. 

The girl, Aliandra as he had called her, ran to him 
and would have knelt beside his body. But before she 
could do so the strong arms of Sergeant Roussel raised 
her from the floor. 

“So you answer the caress of a soldier of the Re- 
public with a slap, do you. Mistress Pretty-face ? ’’ he 
growled. “ Such conduct deserves some disciplining, 
and you and I are going to have a private conversation 
together in the room beyond.” 

Chuckling hoarsely he started to bear his victim to 
the open door. My carbine hung at my side, and it 
was unslung and cocked almost of its own volition. 

“Sergeant Roussel!” I said, and my tone, though 
low, made him halt on the instant. “If you do not 
immediately put down the lady you hold in your arms, 
I will break your head with a bullet ! ” 


CHAPTER IV. 

THE PEASANT WOMAn’s HOARD. 

A CHORUS of oaths from a dozen enraged chasseurs 
greeted my action, but my voice rose above them all 
as I spoke again : 

To me, Poignet d’Acier ! ” I cried. And the click- 
ing lock of the maitre-d’ arnies' weapon gave instant an- 
swer to my appeal. 

For a second Sergeant Roussel glared into my eyes, 
a veritable hell of baffled lust and hatred in his glance. 
Then he must have seen from the look on my face that 
the shot was coming. 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


27 


With a choking- oath he released the girl, who rushed 
at once across the room, sprang through the door 
and slammed it behind her. We heard the bolts rasp 
in their sockets on the other side. 

Calmly I uncocked my carbine, replaced it in its 
sling, and glanced around the room. Poignet d’Acier, 
his mouth set in a grim smile, regarded me with a gaze 
full of amusement. In every other face I read anger 
and disajiproval of what I had done. 

Sergeant Roussel, no longer menaced with death at 
my hands, was quick to find his tongue. 

''Norn de DieuI'" he shouted, threatening me with 
his fist. “ Curse you for a spoil-sport, you young limb 
of Satan ! You niutiny, do you, and threaten your 
commanding officer.? May I roast forever if I don't 
have you shot for this ! " 

The voice of my comrades chimed in. 

“ A rare nerve has Sans-Barbe, on my word," com- 
mented “Loup." 

‘■'Chien! To snatch such a dainty bit from us!' 
exclaimed Pierre David. 

“If he wanted none of it himself, well and good, 
but to do as he did — Sapristi ! " from Jean Guyot. 

“ Silence ! " called Poignet d’Acier suddenly. And at 
the sound of that voice the room became as still as a 
column awaiting the word to charge. When Renaud 
Bronsard told men to be silent they generally com- 
plied. If they did not, he made them so forever. 

“Speak up, lad," the maitre-d armes resumed with a 
suspicion of a sneer in his tone. “Tell the citizens 
why you acted as you did. They don’t seem to under- 
stand." 

“Sergeant Roussel," I said, looking straight into the 
eyes of that furious sub-officer. “ In what you said 
just now you erred. I did not mutiny. I did not 
threaten my commanding officer. I simply forced a 
drunken brute, placed by some mistake of nature in 
the body of a man, to give up a lady who would honor 
him if she condescended to wipe her shoes on his filthy 
form. As for having me shot, you are welcome to do 
that if you think it in your power. Only Colonel Billot 
will have something to say about it. And I won’t be 
backward in using my tongue at the court-martial." 

The sergeant paled noticeably. He could not afford 


28 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


to have his conduct aired before a military tribunal and 
I knew it. 

“ As for you others,” I turned on the rest, “ you may 
think what you please, but you’d best be guarded in 
what you say. Pierre David has gone too hir as it is. 
At the first opportunity you’ll answer to me for that 
little word ‘ ’ Citizen David.” 

“As you please, Citizen Sans-Barbe,” Pierre David 
answered, shrugging his shoulders. Though a fiend 
incarnate when his passions were excited, he was no 
coward. 

“ Best have it over on the spot,” suggested Poignet 
d’Acier. “ How say you, Roussel, can we not let them 
fight ? ’Tis no matter of losing a campaign.” 

“With the utmost pleasure,” Sergeant Roussel de- 
clared, his eyes dancing with malice. He knew that 
Pierre David was a fair swordsman, and he had no ob- 
jection to seeing him run me through. 

“ To the open then,” sang out the maitre d'armes, and 
all hands poured out of the farmhouse. No time was 
wasted in preliminaries, and in a few moments Pierre 
David and I were face to face in the open space before 
the door, saber in hand. 

Dearly would Sergeant Roussel and all the squad, 
except Renaud Bronsard, have loved to witness my 
death, but they were doomed to disappointment. For 
I killed Pierre David dead at the first parade. It takes 
longer to tell than it did to do it. The affair lasted but a 
moment. Merely a clash of steel, a smothered curse, 
and Pierre David lying upon the grass with blood fly- 
ing from his pierced chest. 

As I wiped my crimsoned blade I cast a glance of 
invitation upon the others. 

“ Next ! ” I said with a mocking smile. But no one 
accepted the challenge. Pierre David had been above 
the average, and all present knew his record. 

The silence that fell upon them was broken by the 
hard laugh of Poignet d’Acier. 

“Next!” he echoed after me. '' Sapristi, what a 
man-eater the boy is become 1 ” 

“ By the Republic ! But that was well done fora 
first assay, my Georges I ” he breathed in my ear as 
the rest re-entered the house. “You were through him 
ere the eye could follow you, and your point came out 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


29 


at his back as he parried. I see my labor has not been 
thrown away, and in time I may be able to make a 
fencer of you.” 

“Will they let it lie there, Renaud.?” I asked sud- 
denly. 

“It.?” his eyes following the glance of my own. 
“Oh, you mean the late Citizen David. No, Roussel 
will have him put under the ground before we move, I 
expect. If he has any sense of humor, he’ll detail you 
to perform the duty, my boy. How you’d relish bury- 
ing your dead ! There he goes into the hut now. I’ll 
follow and suggest it to him. Come along.” 

We re-entered the house, arm in arm, behind the 
rest of our comrades, who had flocked in after Sergeant 
Roussel. 

The wounded Rocco had raised himself on one 
elbow, and was gazing about in a confused manner, 
while his mother knelt by his side, sopping his head 
with a towel. At sight of our uniforms, intelligence 
returned to his face, his eyes grew steady, and his 
mouth set vindictively. 

Sergeant Roussel marked the mountaineer’s expres- 
sion, and took prompt measures to ensure obedience 
to the orders he was about to issue. He drew a pistol 
from his belt, cocked it, and thrust it into Rocco’s face. 

‘ ‘ Get up at once, dog of an Italian, and do as you’re 
bid, or ’twill be the worse for you,” he said roughly. 

The peasant staggered to an upright position. 

You’ve a spade and mattock.?” the sergeant con- 
tinued. 

Rocco nodded sullenly. 

“ Bring them out ! ” 

Still covered by the menacing pistol, the moun- 
taineer reeled to a corner of the room, opened the door 
of a sort of closet, and dragged from its depths a 
clumsy pick-ax and a spade. 

“ Are these what you need. Excellency.? ” he asked. 

“They’ll answer. Carry them out of doors. You, 
Guyot and Jardon, attend him, and if he makes any 
trial of an escape, or turns sulky, wash his head with 
lead. Hold !.” as Rocco shouldered the implements 
and'advanced uncertainly toward the door. “Reach 
the jug from the floor yonder and give him to drink. 
His strength seems pretty well taken out of him.” 


30 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


I held out the wine pitcher to the Italian lad, who 
took a long pull at its contents. Then, without con- 
sulting Sergeant Roussels eye, 1 bade him sit down, 
and, taking a cloth from his mother, I bound up his 
wounded head. 

This attention, coming from one of his unwelcome 
guests, seemed to puzzle him ; his eyes turned upon 
me from time to time with a look of patient wonder in 
their dark depths. I finished and stepped back. 

“ Quite patched up, eh.^ ” snapped Sergeant Roussel. 
“Get up, hound, and follow me. I trust Private Sans- 
barbe has put you into condition to do the work I have 
for you.” 

The sergeant led the way straight to the rear of the 
garden. There, stopping at a spot shadowed by the 
spreading branches of a rugged oak, he turned to Rocco, 
who had come quietly under the vigilant eyes of 
Privates Guyot and Jardon, saying abruptly, “Here 
pig, dig a grave ! ” 

The wine had brought back the color to Rocco’s 
face, but at the words of Roussel it paled again. 

“ A — a grave ? he stammered. 

“Aye, a gravel” our commander returned, with a 
cruel chuckle. “ Dig it deep and make it /o?ig, long 
enough for the body of a giant like yourself.” 

The mountaineer cast a desperate glance about him 
as though he meditated an attempt at escape. The 
promptly leveled carbines of his guardians instantly 
showed him that no hope of flight was left. His eyes 
grew haggard and appealing, great beads of perspira- 
tion broke out upon his forehead, his face grew deathly 
pale. 

“Come, set to work,” the sergeant said with impa- 
tience. “ Dig, I say, or I shall order the men to fire.” 

“I am ready,” said the peasant, folding his arms 
with an air that did not want dignity. “ I dig not my 
own grave.” 

Sergeant Roussel gazed at him for a moment with a 
look of wonder. Then he laughed, drew four of the 
men aside, and whispered some rapid orders. They 
moved away at once toward the house. 

Still Rocco stood with folded arms, p'atiently await- 
ing the death he was sure must follow. The tramp of 
feet was presently heard, our circle opened, and four 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


31 


chasseurs advancing between us, laid down the gory 
body of Pierre David beside his last earthly resting- 
place. 

“ Dig his/” guffawed the sergeant. 

The face of the peasant changed, as if by magic. 
He pointed a shaking finger at the dead man s face. 

“ His ! one of her insulters ! Who killed him } ” he 
cried. 

Poignet d’Acier silently laid his hand upon my 
shoulder. Before I could prevent him, Rocco seized 
my fingers and pressed them to his lips. From that 
moment the devotion of the peasant lad was mine. 

Seizing shovel and spade, Rocco dug the grave of 
one he hated. 

The corpse was lowered into the hole at once, the 
dead man’s saber was placed across his breast, and the 
sergeant gave Rocco a sign to shovel back the earth. 
No prayer was read, no requiem was sung. Pierre 
David had lived on the worst of terms with his fellows, 
and there was no man present who cared to say “God 
rest his soul.” Indeed, in that republican army, the 
only God we worshiped was Victory. 

1 had judged that, the burial over, we would at once 
take the road again, but it did not happen so. On the 
contrary, the sergeant, cautioning Jardon and Guyot 
still to keep a watch on Rocco's movements, led us 
back to the house, and entering, called loudly for the 
old woman. 

She appeared at once and stood before him submis- 
sively awaiting his commands. 

“What is your Excellency’s pleasure.?” she in- 
quired. 

“Old girl,” said the sergeant, “before we go, there’s 
a small favor we can do you, and par Dieu ! you sha’n’t 
find us backward in rendering it. You have, of a cer- 
tainty, some store of money, large or small, hidden 
away somewhere. Living as you do, you have no 
need of it, and the possession of it is sure to expose 
you to the attacks of robbers, who, I know, infestthese 
mountains. You’ll feel much safer and better at ease 
if you know you’ve nothing in the house they can 
desire. So produce your cash and we 11 take it away 
with us. The robbers will never get it then, you may 
be sure.” 


32 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


The old woman clasped her hands. 

“Indeed, Excellency, you are wrong,” she cried. 
“There is no money here, I swear it. How should 
such poor people as we are have money ? ” 

“Say you so ? ” Sergeant Roussel returned, laughing, 
“ I fear that our advent and the trouble of entertaining 
us have disturbed your memory. But we’ll soon have 
it working smoothly again. Tie up the boy, a couple 
of you, and be brisk about doing it.” 

Loup and Raoul Miallis went to work, and pres- 
ently Rocco lay bound before the fire. 

“Take off his shoes,” directed the sergeant, and 
Loup, grinning horribly, tore the coverings from his 
victim’s feet. 

I pressed close to Poignet d’Acier. 

“What are they about to do, Renaud.?” I whis- 
pered. 

“ You’ll see,” he replied in an undertone. “And do 
you keep silent this time, Georges; 'tis no place for in- 
terference. Not that it will go very far, for I judge 
Roussel won’t have to more than scorch the lad before 
she gives in.” 

Rocco’s mother had viewed the binding of her son 
without protest, and seemed at a loss to account for 
the proceeding. 

“ You are sure you have no money then ? ” Sergeant 
Roussel asked in what was, for him, a gentle tone. 

“Sure, oh, yes! very, very sure. Excellency.” 

The sergeant nodded to Loup, who caught a burn- 
ing brand from the fire and held it close to one of 
Rocco’s feet. 

The young man writhed as he felt the heat, and his 
face was contorted with pain. But he compressed his 
lips and made no sound. His mother, probably , be- 
cause of failing eyesight, did not comprehend the 
torture her son was enduring, and remained blinking 
placidly at the sergeant. 

Loup held the brand nearer, and the sickening 
smell of burned flesh greeted our nostrils. It was too 
much for human nerves to withstand, and a mad scream 
of suffering was wrung from the prostrate Rocco. 

Then, at last, his mother understood. She rushed 
at Loup like a wild-cat, and taking him unprepared 
thrust him backward into the fire. Without looking 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 33 

to see what became of him she fell on her knees before 
the sergeant. 

“For the love of God, Excellency, have j^ity ! I 
lied, 1 confess that I lied ! 1 have money, and I will 

give you all of it ! But for the love of the IMadonna, 
release my boy ! ” she screamed. 

I thought you would remember, ” Sergeant Roussel 
remarked, casting an amused eye at the luckless 
Loup, who was scrambling hastily out of the fire- 
place and cursing horribly as he brushed away and 
beat out the flame that had caught in his uniform. 

‘“Bring the purse, then, and the youngster's feet 
shall have no more warming. But beware how you 
trifle with me this time, for if I have reason to doubt 
you, i’ll set this dog-kennel of yours ablaze and leave 
you and yours to roast in the ruins. So have a 

I 

care ! 

d'here was no need of further threats or tortures. 
From the inner room the woman brought a bag, heavy 
with silver, that seemed 'to content even Sergeant 
Roussel. He smiled as he finished weighing the 
pouch in his hand, and going to the table he emptied 
the coins out on the boards, calling Poignet d’Acier to 
help him count them. 

That task was soon disposed of. and the money was 
imi)artially divided among us, the men on sentry duty 
of course coming in for their share. My sense of right 
rebelled at these bandit proceedings, and wh.cn my 
name was called I hung back for a moment, unwill- 
ing to receive my portion of the plunder. 

Poignet d’Acier’s hand grasped my shoulder and he 
urged me forward, whispering angrily : 

''Daniel To the table with you, Georges, and make 
no scruple at doing as the rest have done. It's share 
and share alike, you know, and every one of us must 
be in equally deep. If it comes to the colonel’s ear, 
we’ll be shot, and it won’t do for you to hang back. 
Quick, take your share before thy com.rades notice.” 

So I pocketed my part of the old woman’s hoard, 
and very heavy the coins made my pocket — at least it 
seemed so to me. 

The farmhouse had now no further charm for us. 
We took a farewell drink of wine all round. Then we 
clanked out of the place and got to horse. 

3 


34 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


Our videttes were called in, their spoil handed over 
to them, and we resumed our advance in the same 
formation we had followed in the morning. 

And so we rode away from the farmhouse in the 
mountains. Up the lane out into the road we clattered, 
while ever that accursed silver seemed to burn my skin 
through my trousers. 

Dieul how weighty it was! And it grew more 
weighty with every second. The motion of my horse 
made the coins move every now and then. Farbleu I 
they were making my leg sore as they pressed upon it. 

I could no longer endure the torment. '' Hola, inon 
sergent I '' I cried suddenly. “ A request.” 

“What now.?” Roussel demanded, turning a sour 
look over his shoulder. 

“I cannot find my bag of flints, and remember now 
that I laid them upon the table as I ate. I would go 
back for them, with your permission.” 

“.Devil take such carelessness 1 ” he grumbled. 
“Go then, but be sure 1 shall not forget your being 
lax in such a matter.” 

I wheeled my mare and dashed back to the cottage 
at a reckless pace. Upon a stone beside the doorway 
sat IMother Giannetta, her face buried in her hands. 
Sobs shook her shoulders, she was weeping bitterly. 
Neither Rocco nor the girl were to be seen. 

As I reined up she leaped to her feet, her tear-stained 
face distorted with terror. Without a word I drew from 
my pocket my share of the spoil we had wrenched 
from her, added to it every sou of the scanty allowance 
on my pay that I had lately received, and dropped the 
whole at her feet. 

I stayed not to hear her thanks, I did not even look 
at her again, but spurred away to overtake my com- 
rades, penniless, yet light of heart. 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


35 


CHAPTER V. 

LANDLORD GIACOMO. 

Slowly we rode, two by two, along the narrow 
mountain road. The wine had loosened the tongues 
and quickened the wits of the chasseurs, jokes, sallies 
and repartees flew from one end of the column to the 
other, and the march was enlivened by song and story. 
Amid the mirth 1 alone was silent. Several attempts 
of Poignet d'Acier’s to engage me in conversation I 
either heeded not or let pass unanswered. Finally the 
mattre cVarjnes grew impatient of my reticent mood, and 
grasping me by the arm he shook me roughly in the 
saddle, exclaiming at the same time : 

jMilles bomhes, what in the name of the devil has 
come over the boy ! ■ Dost dream of the little Jarbeau, 
left behind at Nice, dost long for her black eyes and 
cherry lips.? Pouf I Georges, thou’rt forgotten by this 
time .? ” 

I smiled faintly. 

“ Wrong, Poignet d’Acier, my thoughts have ceased 
to stray in the direction of Cosette Jarbeau. She 
belongs to the past, nion amiP 

“But if not on woman — .? ” The veteran stopped 
abruptly in his speech and scanned my countenance 
with frowning brow. 

“Georges,” he said sternly when some seconds had 
passed, “you’re never regretting that your steel was 
wet to-day, and you’re not wishing back again the dog 
you started on his way to Monsieur Lucifer, his mas- 
ter ? ” 

“No, Renaud Bronsard ! ” I answered on the instant. 
“ Pierre David disturbs me not a whit. He also is of 
the past.” 

“I might have known it,” Poignet d’Acier muttered. 
“For all the world like my old captain ! Tell me, then, 
my Georges, what disquiets thee .? ” 

“That which happened at the cottage yonder, 
Renaud, Diantre, I had no idea that this was war ! ” 

“Nor is it,” he replied quickly. “ Only a part of it, 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


36 

as you will learn, Georges. I understand how it is 
with you, Fve felt the same myself when I was young 
at the trade. But I’m past that long since, and I tell 
you frankly, that the sooner you banish all such emo- 
tions from your heart, the better for your future. ’Tis 
hard for the old woman, I grant, to have her savings 
w'renched from her. But ’tis not we who are to blame. 
’Tis the fault of her master, the King of Sardinia. He 
makes war on the Republic. ” 

“Then why did the Adjutant-Major read out such 
emphatic orders against pillaging, and why is a fusil- 
lade promised to those who are caught at it ? ” I 
asked. 

“ Simply that they may take care not io be caught, 
Georges,” answered the matire d'armes. “ Bah ! young 
simpleton ! dost imagine that General Bonaparte him- 
self doesn’t know that the whole army pants for the 
spoil of Italy.? Sang-dieu I Our word to the descend- 
ants of the Romans is to be ‘Disgorge,’ and no one 
knows it better than our little general ! ” 

“ Thinkest then, Renaud,” I asked astonished, “that 
General Bonaparte will line his pockets too.? Surely 
not in such manner as we have done to-day.” 

“No, not exactly in the same way,” the mailre 
answered. “ He’ll go at it in this fashion. After 
we have well drubbed the Piedmontese and the ‘white- 
coats ’ there’ll be a peace patched up, and they’ll have 
to pay the Republic an indemnity. A good part of that 
will stick to the General’s hands. I’ll warrant you. 
And as it all comes out of the people’s pockets ’tis the 
same in the end, one way or the other. Dost see .? ” 

“ But the women, Renaud, how about the women .? ” 
I asked. “Dost approve such actions as Roussel 
would have perpetrated back there had I not stepped 
in ? ” 

“No, by the kiss of that keen female called La Guil- 
lotine, that I do not,” he said emphatically. “What- 
ever man can obtain from maid, widow, or wife, that 
let him take and be certain of no forbidding from me. 
But to coerce a woman is a different matter, and I’ll 
none of it.” 

“Then you’d have stopped Roussel yourself if I had 
been silent, I suppose.?” inquired I, 

“Precisely, Georges, I would not have suffered him 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


37 


to proceed. But you were so prompt to act that I had 
no chance. Nom d un pipe I young hot-brain, but you 
were marvelous ready with your carbine ! ” laughed 
Poignet d’Acier. 

“ I could not hold my hand, Renaud. It set me on 
fire to see a beautiful maid, such as the one yonder, in 
the arms of that brute Roussel, with his brandy-burnt 
face. She fs beautiful, isn’t she, Renaud.?” I said with- 
enthusiasm. “I have heard tell of beings called 
angels, and I think they must look like yonder girl. 
Never have I pictured any woman so wonderful as she 
is!” 

Poignet d’Acier smiled at my ardor. 

“Very beautiful indeed she is, Georges,” he agreed, 
“but there's a sparkle in that dark eye of hers that in- 
dicates she is not all angel. I’d not care to provoke 
her if she had a knife at hand. I wonder what the 
devil she is doing in that wretched mountain hut?” 

“ Doing? ” I echoed. “Why, living there, of course, 
with her mother and brother. What else should she 
be doing there ? ” 

“Her mother and brother ? Bah ! Georges, where 
were your eyes ? ” returned Renaud Bronsard. 
“ Could’st not see that she. is of a condition far above 
that of the old woman and Rocco ? They are peasants, 
and peasants I’d know them for if I met them wearing 
the white cockade and the Cross of St. Louis ! But 
the girl is another sort. She’s of the noblesse, or I am 
not first maiire d'armes of the chasseurs d cheval of 
Damremont ! ” 

“And that means of the Army of Italy, Renaud,” 
worshiped I. 

Chatting thus as we rode onward, the afternoon 
wore away. Twilight was fast falling about us when 
the road dipped suddenly into a shallow valley, and I 
saw that we were approaching some sort of an habita- 
tion. Through this slender depression in the hills ran 
the thread of a mountain rill. The road we followed 
cut the valley from east to west, and was intersected 
by another that ran north and south along the edge of 
the stream on the side farthest from us. In the southern 
angle thus formed, stood a rambling, two-storied struc- 
ture of battered and weather-worn appearance, stone- 
walled and thatch-roofed, fashioned after the style of 


38 THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 

the Swiss cantons. Evidently the place was a moun- 
tain hostelry. Seen through the trees and undergrowth 
it presented a welcome view to our eyes. We hast- 
ened our tired beasts in their walk, splashed through 
the swift, but fordable, torrent, mounted the slight rise 
on the other side and drew up before the door. Three 
persons came from the house to greet us. 

Two of these were great young sons of the moun- 
tains, huge of stature and strong of limb. The garb 
they wore, half smuggler, half hunter, set off to ad- 
vantage their mighty forms and emphasized the muscles 
of their finely developed limbs. Both had handsome 
faces, well browned by the winds and rains of the Ap- 
ennines, and they were unmistakably brothers. Both 
were fully mustached and bearded, and their dark eyes 
looked out at us from under the brims of their high- 
crowned hats with glances far from amicable. 

The appearance of the person in the center of the 
little group contrasted strangely with that of the 
other two. He was an old man — how old one 
could not judge, for though on his head, which was 
bare, a mass of luxuriant hair, white as the Alpine 
snowbanks, flowed down, framing his face and fall- 
ing on his shoulders, the countenance shadowed by 
those thick locks had a complexion clear and healthy 
as that of a man of thirty, unspotted, smooth and un- 
wrinkled. Not a line crossed his smooth high fore- 
head. His eyebrows were black as the bore of a siege- 
gun, and the large brown eyes beneath were full of 
fire and intelligence. His features were handsomely 
cut, a high, hawk-like nose, strong, composed mouth, 
full and aggressive chin. He was close-shaven, and 
the handsome proportions of his powerful throat were 
plainly shown by the turned-down collar of his shirt. 

Though shorter by half a head than the other two, 
when one had once looked at him, one cared to look 
at them no longer. For the man seemed a moving 
tower of strength. Under his short brown jacket and 
red waistcoat he carried the chest and shoulders of a 
Milo. It seemed to me that I could see the muscles 
swelling under his clothes on his long arms as he ap- 
proached us. His legs, clothed in wide breeches of 
brown cloth and leathern leggings, were bowed out- 
wards with a marked curve. But they only added to 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


39 


his impression of power. On his feet were the com- 
mon nailed shoes used by the people of the mountain 
country. 

The old man s face, as he came up and addressed 
Sergeant Roussel, was friendly and full of welcome. 
His eye was mild and benign, his lip wore a gentle 
and placid smile. 

“Be welcome, thrice welcome, illustrious one,” he 
said, bowing low before the sergeant. “Happy the 
day that brings you and your followers hither. The 
afternoon is far spent, and you cannot wish to go 
farther to-night. Alight then, from your horses, and 
my two good sons here, Pippo and Guisardo, will show 
you where you may stable them safely. When you 
have looked to their wants, come to my inn, and there 
shall you be supplied with all that man can desire for 
his refreshment. I, Giacomo, who have entertained 
travelers these forty years here at my house of ‘The 
Falcon’s Home’ will see to that.” 

‘'Pardieu! most worthy Signor Giacomo, we’ll not 
be slow to follow your advice,” cried Sergeant Roussel. 

En avant, comrades!” And the sergeant followed 
after Pippo and Guisardo, while we led our horses be- 
hind him. 

We found that landlord Giacomo had not been boast- 
ful in lauding his stables. They were roomy, well 
supplied with grain and hay, and clean bedding for the 
beasts was ready at hand. Cheerily we set to work on 
the horses, and, spurred on by our own empty stom- 
achs, we soon finished the work of caring for them. 
Then we made haste to enter the inn, where we found 
that Giacomo had not lost time in making all things 
ready for our entertainment. 

In the spacious, low-ceilinged public-room on the 
first floor, a long table, well supplied with all the re- 
quisites for a hearty meal, awaited us. Telling off 
two videttes, one to take post up the road to the east, 
another to watch at the ford, the sergeant set us an ex- 
ample by seating himself and attacking the nearest 
dish. We followed suit, and for a time the rattle of 
knives and crockery, mingled with the noise of work- 
ing jaws, were the only sounds to be heard. 

Giacomo and his sons were indefatigable in urging 
us to eat, and pressed wine upon us continually. The 


40 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


old innkeeper besought the sergeant that he would 
allow him to take refreshments out to the sentinels, 
and not make them wait for relief. The request was 
granted. 

Supper was nearly finished when two more sturdy 
young giants entered the room, whom Giacomo pre- 
sented as his sons Andrea and Ricardo. They carried 
short rifles which they at once hung up in slings on 
the walls, where others of like pattern also rested, and 
hastened to aid their father and brothers in the work of 
serving us. 

Their wine was generous and there was plenty of it, 
so we drank deep. Songs began to be heard, toasts 
and stories followed fast on each other’s tracks, our 
hosts apparently enjoying the evening as much as we 
did. 

To what pitch the revelry rose 1 am not able to say, 
for supper was scarcely disposed of before I rolled 
quietly off my bench and lay helpless on the floor. 
The wine had conquered, and I fell asleep. 

How long I lay there I know not, I was stirred to 
semi-consciousness at last by some one rudely shaking 
me. 

With a grumbling protest I rolled over and strove to 
continue my nap. 

At that a heavily shod foot was emphatically planted 
in the fleshy part of my back. Half-aroused I rose on 
my elbow, my eyes blinking unsteadily. They fell 
under the light for the moment, and then I forced up 
the lids with an effort and glanced about the room. 

The sight that room presented effectually banished 
all traces of sleep from my brain. 


CHAPTER VI. 

“ NOT FOR MY WRONGS BUT FOR MY COUNTRY ! 

In the strong light shed by several large lamps fixed 
in iron brackets along the walls every object in the 
room was plainly to be seen. The old innkeeper and 
three of his sons stood in a group several paces away 
from me. The fourth, Guisardo it was, towered above 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


41 

me, and it was the application of his nailed boot that 
had roused me from my drunken slumbers. 

Between Giacomo and his sons and myself a man 
was bending over one of a dozen green-clad forms that 
cumbered the floor, each lying in its separate puddle of 
glistening crimson. His figure seemed familiar, yet to 
my throbbing brain it was as that of a person seen and 
known long, long ago. Strive though I did, I could 
not rightly place him. I lay rolling my terror-charged 
eyes about and glaring upon the scene with almost 
bursting eyeballs, fancying that I must be in the midst 
of some terrible nightmare. Cold perspiration started 
out upon my body and bathed my limbs. I made a 
desperate effort of will to dispel the vision. 

The sound of light, quick footsteps approaching from 
without caused all of the mountaineers to turn toward 
the open door, save only he whom I have mentioned 
as remembered but unrecognized. His task, whatever 
it was, seemed too absorbing for him to heed the com- 
ing of an intruder. I myself heard the noise but 
vaguely, but as I saw the innkeeper and his progeny 
bend their looks to the entrance I stupidly rolled my 
own heavy orbs in the same direction. 

“Throw something over them ; the sight will shock 
her ; though ’twas done for her,’' muttered the inn- 
keeper, as his sons hurriedly tossed over my dead com- 
rades the tablecloth and some near-by rugs. 

A woman came eagerly through the door, advanced 
a few paces into the room and stopped, every line of 
her face and form distinctly revealed in the brilliant 
glare of the lamps. The pose of her figure as she stood 
was magnificent. Her great eyes were flashing with 
a feverish, glittering luster, a red spot burned on either 
. cheek. 

“Look, Lady Aliandra,” came to me in the deep 
voice of the landlord. “We have avenged you. 
Look ! " 

The unknown rose and turned toward her. Her 
eyes, following his gesture, flew to the half-concealed 
bodies of the murdered chasseurs. In one compre- 
hensive, questioning stare she took them all in, and 
suddenly the horror of the crime appeared to strike 
her. With a low shriek she covered her face with her 
hands and shrank back, shuddering in every muscle. 


4 ^ 


THE GIFT OP BONAPARTE 


Contessa cried Giacomo, moving toward her, 
but she motioned him away. 

“ Oh, it is terrible ! she wailed. “ I never thought 
that it would be like this.” 

“Bah! the blood of Frenchmen should be the 
sweetest sight on earth to you, Aliandra,” Rocco re- 
torted. “ Especially if your heart is to continue to 
approve the plans of Count Luca. He loves Italy, the 
count, and were he here he would wish there were 
more of them for us to slay.” 

The girl dropped her hands from her face. 

“The two I bade you spare.?” she questioned 
tremblingly, a new light in her eyes. “ You have not 
dared to kill them .? ” 

“No, they are safe enough. One I’d have saved 
on my own account. I liked him,” Rocco replied. 

“ That is well. Were it to do over again I’d spare 
them all. Madonna I I knew not what we did.” 

And Aliandra shuddered again. Rocco laughed — a 
laugh low and distinct, a laugh so full of unpitying 
hatred gratified, so charged with vengeance triumphant, 
so brimful of keen, diabolical, sated joy, that I gasped, 
and the cold chill of Fear seemed to freeze my very 
heartstrings. For now I knew that I was awake. 
Mon Dieul No man could ever dream a laugh like 
that I 

A brutal chuckle from Guisardo answered my pant- 
ing exclamation. 

“Eyes open at last, eh.? My little devil of a sans- 
culotte” the wretch cried gleefully. “ San Paulo I But 
it was no light work to waken you I Get up on your 
feet and stand, if you can. It’s not politeness to lie 
like a stupefied hog in the presence of my Lady 
Aliandra. ” 

With that he bestowed upon me another kick that 
brought me with an effort to my feet, reeling clumsily 
against the table, and clutching first for my hilt, 
which my hand did not grasp, then for my pistols, 
which were also lacking at my belt. 

My action seemed to afford Guisardo unlimited 
amusement. He threw back his head and roared like 
the great mountain calf that he was. 

“So you'd bite, would you, little reptile !” he jeered. 
“Your teeth are drawn, but you have the will to do 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


43 

harm fast enough. Who’d think it, to look at your 
face of an infant ! Diavalo / ” 

“ Satan take you ! ” 1 contrived to stammer out, for 
there seemed to be a weight on my tongue and my 
lips cracked and burned as I moved them. “Filthy 
cur, ril kill you for those same kicks ! ” 

“Pray, don’t, most illustrious,” Guisardo begged 
mockingly. Stretching out his hands in grinning 
appeal he grasped my shoulders and whirled me 
around. 

But she whom he had called “ my Lady Aliandra ” 
interrupted him. His loud words attracted her atten- 
tion. 

“Cease, Guisardo!” she called imperiously. “Is 
this the way you interpret my orders.? Did I not 
command that this young trooper and the other one I 
pointed out should be spared .? ” 

Guisardo took his hands from my collar and pulled 
clumsily at his forelock. 

“I took it to mean only that they were not to be 
killed, contessa” he said sulkily. “I did not suppose 
you’d care if I kicked this one a Utile." 

“Nevertheless keep your great paws off this one, 
ox you will know what it is to provoke my anger. 
Remember that no one in these valleys may do that 
with safety.” 

“ Excepting Count Luca 1 ” Guisarda muttered with 
an ugly sneer. 

The lady’s face burned scarlet and she drew a deep 
breath. 

“ Guisardo, son of Giacomo,” she said slowdy, “have 
you the wish that I should tell the Count Luca that 
you have borne yourself insolently in my presence ?” 

“No, no, contessa" Guisardo muttered in a changed 
and cringing voice. “I would not that you told the 
count that of me, and I implore you not to think I 
meant to treat you with small respect.” 

“ Then, if you would regain my good will, aid yonder 
boy’s recovery from the potion of your father. He 
is still under the influence of the drug, as any one can 
see. Bring him cold water, that he may drink and 
dash some upon his head,” she commanded. 

“Let that be my task. Lady Aliandra.” broke in the 
deep tones of Rocco. “ I’ve have not forgotten that 


44 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


'twas his hand gave me wine to-day, and he bandaged 
my head after ’twas broken by his comrades. Curse 
them ! They’ll spill no more Italian blood, and 
they’ve plundered their last defenseless home ! ” 

“As you please, Rocco,” the lady returned. “And 
now, Giacomo, come forward and remember, you have 
not done this for my wrongs — but for our country’s. 
Your master shall have golden accounts of you from 
me when he returns.” 

“ 'Fhe satisfaction of avenging you, contessa, is pav 
enough for me,” the innkeeper said as he walked to 
her side. “I have lived all my life in the service of 
your family, and so will I die. When you came to us 
late this afternoon by the path through the forest, 
Rocco with you, though he walked with difficulty, 
and told of the insult offered you by those who lie 
there, my heart was on fire at once. It is of comfort 
to know that our deed was pleasing to the Madonna, 
too. For these sons of Satan, the French, are all of 
no religion, and to kill them makes one sure of the 
Holy Mother’s favor. My sons and I unquestionably 
merit Heaven for this night’s work.” 

d’he effects of the drug still clurig to me. During 
this horrible harangue, I continued to gaze stupidly 
back at him in a sort of helpless fascination, while my 
body quivered in every nerve. 

“And this one here, co7itessa” he said in tones 
that were almost beseeching. “What is the use of 
sparing him .? True, you say he defended you from 
his officer. But no Frenchman has a good motive for 
anything he does. Therefore — ” 

He made a nasty gesture with his knife. 

“No, no, Giacomo!” cried the girl. “Treat him 
gently and use him as well as a prisoner can be used.” 

“ But, contessa, he is a soldier. Not a very old one, 
and therefore not hardened or bad yet. Think what 
he will become after he has served through several 
campaigns. He will grow proficient in evil very fast, 
that boy, one can read it in his forehead. If I kill him 
now he may have some chance of leaving Purgatory 
for Paradise eventually. So if you wish to show your 
gratitude, contessa, save his soul at the expense of his 
body,” Giacomo argued. 

“No, no,” muttered the Lady Aliandra. “ His blade 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


45 


was drawn to save me.” Then some strange coquetry 
came into her lovely face, and she whispered ; “In 
a few years, though he may grow wicked, he will also 
grow very handsome, Giacomo.” 

At this the ruffian burst into such a horrid guffaw of 
laughter, that with a face that was red^and blushing in 
the lamplight, the girl hurriedly fled from his mirth, 
and also from a sight at which, dazed as I was, I could 
see her shudder every time her eyes caught the heap 
of dead soldiers on the floor. 

The entrance of Rocco, bearing a huge bucket of 
cold water from the mountain stream, brought the 
mirth of my tormentor to a close. 

“Here, little trooper, drink some of this and don’t 
spare it.” Coming up to me he proffered a large 
goblet he snatched from the table. 

I drank greedily, for my throat felt caked and 
parched to burning. When I could pour down no 
more water, by Rocco’s advice I stripped off my coat 
and opened my shirt at the throat, lying back on the 
table while he dashed the icy contents of the bucket 
over my head and chest. 

Presently I was seized with great nausea, to the de- 
light of the landlord and his sons. They screamed 
and cackled with joy at my frantic gasps for breath, 
and overwhelmed me with a torrent of vituperative re- 
marks and uncomplimentary names. For fully half an 
hour I must have struggled, and all that time they 
crowded around me, each outdoing the others in find- 
ing epithets suitable to bestow upon me. At length 
I was able to stand firm on my feet and resume my 
coat. 

As I did this, my protectress appeared at the door 
and beckoned me to her. 

“You seem quite recovered, young Frenchman,” 
she said, after she had critically looked me over, much 
as I had seen Captain Mirador view remounts for the 
squadron. 

“ I am getting back my wits, co7ilessa, as these pigs 
here call you,” i replied. '‘A few hours will see me in 
the best of shape, provided your servants don’t cut my 
throat so soon as your back is turned. ” 

“You need not fear that,” she began, but I inter- 
rupted : 


46 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


“Pardon, madame, you use the wrong word. 1 am 
myself now, and whatever 1 may anticipate, I fear 
nothing.” 

“ You speak bravely, boy,” she said with a smile. 
“Your action to-day was brave, too, and you shall find 
that I am not ungrateful. I can see that you are look- 
ing at me now with detestation, and I do not wonder. 
But weigh the facts before you judge me. Your fiend of 
a sergeant laid rude hands upon me, upon me, a woman 
in whose veins runs the noblest blood of these hills ! 
Your comrades abetted him and had no pity for me, 
You know what I would have had to undergo had 
not you and your brave friend been there. Confess, 
then, that they merited the punishment that has met 
them at the hands of these men, who are all retainers 
of my family. 

“They have shed French blood,” I said stubbornly. 
“The Republic always avenges her sons, madame” 

'^’Tisyou who use the wrong word now, monsieur,” 
she said in excellent French, making me a sweeping 
reverence, then faltered : “Fori am not married— 

Next her voice becoming haughty, she ordered : “ To- 
morrow we will talk farther, for you please me. 
Rocco, take him and put him with other ” 

The hand of Rocco grasped my arm and urged me 
from her. I turned to look at her face, palely beauti- 
ful in the subdued light. 

She was gazing at the silent heap on the floor of the 
room. She was muttering : 

“ ’Twas not for my wrongs but for my country’s, 
you poor wretches died ! ” 

Then suddenly she burst out crying and sobbing as 
if her heart would break. 

Could this woman love Italy as I loved France } Bah ! 
And yet she was beautiful as a Goddess of Liberty. 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


47 


CHAPTER VII 

COUNT LUCA THE PATRIOT 

Rocco and one of his fellows led me across the road, 
and halted me before a low building of stone opposite the 
inn. A moment later I heard a door swing open and 
I was pushed forward into the darkness. A key clicked 
in the lock and the sound of Rocco’s retreating foot- 
steps came faintly to my ears. Evidently, I was to 
be left alone until the morrow. 

Determined to occupy the remaining hours of dark- 
ness in recruiting my strength by slumber, if possible, 
I began groping about with the hope of finding a couch 
of some kind. At the third or fourth step, 1 stumbled. 

“Who comes there.?’’ demanded from the gloom a 
broken voice, that was not in the least familiar to me, 
but nevertheless spoke French. 

“One of the same nation as yourself, comrade,” I 
answered; “this morning a trooper of chasseurs d 
cheval, now a prisoner to the filthy brigands who own 
this hole.” 

Then I heard a great cry, a cry that cannot be 
written down in words, a mingling of surprise, gratifi- 
cation, imprecation, and thanksgiving. Something 
rushed at me like a mad thing through the blackness, 
a pair of sinewy arms were thrown al)Out my body, 
and I was pressed close to a panting chest. A face 
wet with tears was rubbed against my cheek. A voice 
I knew sobbed out : 

“ Georges ! my Georges ! Alive and in the flesh ! ” 

It was Poignet d’Acier. 

I returned with fervor the embrace of the maiire- 
d'ar?nes, and for a time we stood folded in each other s 
arms, while the iron-nerved Renaud Bronsard, whom 
I had never seen greatly moved nor disturbed by any- 
thing before then, and whom I had always considered 
as lacking in the softer emotions possessed by others 
of my comrades, sobbed and wept like a woman and 
repeated incessantly : 


48 


Tllli GIl-T OF BONAPARTE 


“Alive ! Alive ! Georges is alive ! ’’ 

Of course, I too was not wanting in joy, but being 
the younger I was the first to regain self-control. 

'' Par Dicu ! I in alive as ever 1 was, Renaud Bron- 
sard ! '' I said at length. “ Seeinst not to be over-sure 
of the fact.” 

“A iniilion times more certain am I than ! was a 
short while since ! I thought that they had done with 
thee as they diel with the others, Georges, and that I 
would never look upon thee again ! ” 

So saying, Poignet d’Acier ceased stifling me and 
guided me across the room that held us. We sat down, 
our l>acks to the wall, and the niaiire d'arnies passed 
Ins arm over my shoulder. 

“ 'fell me, Georges, how didst come out of that 
d.cvil’s nest unharmed } ” he began. 

“ 'Twas xVliandra saved me, the girl at the farm, the 
one whom Roussel insulted,” I answered. And swiftly 
1 recounted the events I had witnessed upon awakening. 

“So she was the cause of it then } ” he said, when I 
had finished. “I told thee, Georges, that yonder girl 
was not peasant born.” 

“ But you, Renaud.? ” I asked, “did not you see her 
before you were brought here.?” 

“No. Georges,” he returned. “I saw but the old 
landlord, — may it be my reward for any good I have 
done to have him some day before my jioint ! — and 
his four bloody-minded sons ! Rocco and the lady 
must have waited until the others hatl made sure work 
before they entered.” 

“Did you sec them murder the others then .? ” que- 
ried I. 

The teeth of Renaud Bronsard ground savagely 
against each other. 1 could not see his face, but I 
heard the sound made by his jaws. 

“Before we both die we’ll have the satisfaction of 
requiting the murderers,” I breathed into Poignet d’A- 
cier's ear. 

“We’ll win out of this scrape, together, never fear, 
Georges,” he answered. “And when we next visit 
the house of Giacomo we’ll redden the sky with flame 
and the earth with blood. We’ll learn, too, who this 
Aliandra may be that they call ‘my lady’ and cut 
chasseurs' throats for. And we’ll pay a visit to her 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


49 

home, that she may not suppose we have forgotten 
her.” 

'‘Dame! she’s a woman, Renaud,” I remonstrated. 
“ Would’st give her the same treatment you hope to 
bestow on Giacomo ? ” 

“A woman ! Sang-dieu ! her dam must have been 
a wolf-bitch of the Apenines ! ” growled the maitre- 
darmes. “ Sapristi ! She’ll have small cause to rejoice 
that she escaped Roussel to-day if ever she falls into 
my hands ! ” 

“We’re not out of here j/e/, Renaud,” I said, to 
change the trend of the conversation, for I disliked 
to hear him utter such sentiments. “ How do you 
think we shall get free.? ” 

“We’ll have to wait for the dawn to decide on that, 
Georges. Leave all to me, boy, and be ready to act 
when I give you the word, that’s all. Did the coniessa 
give you no hint of what they intend to do with us .? ” 

“ She merely said that she’d hold further conversa- 
tion with me in the morning,” I answered. 

“Try to find out their plans when you see her, 
then,” advised the mattre-d’armes. “She may have 
taken a fancy to that cherub’s face of thine, and in that 
case she’ll tell thee all thou want’st to know.” 

“ Poignet d’Acier, you talk as much nonsense as a 
whole squadron of dragoons could manage among 
them,” I answered impatiently. “Why should you 
suppose this girl to have a liking for me .? ” 

“Oh, it might chance to be so. One can never 
make sure of a woman’s taste in such matters. I’ve 
even knowm a slim young snap-the-bridle like yourself 
preferred to a stout swordsman such as 1 am,” he 
laughed. “And now, sleep if you can, and keep silent 
at all events. Lay your head here on my chest, 
Georges, a more willing pillow thou’lt never come 
across, and good night to thee.” 

It was no easy matter to fall asleep with that pile of 
corpses still fresh in my memory ; but I managed it 
at last, and knew no more until the sun had long 
been up. Then the rough voice ofGuisardo, soundiirg 
in my ears, awakened me. 

“They lie as quietly as the others did ; Rocco mio,” 
the wretch was saying. 

I opened my eyes. The door was ajar, and from 

4 


50 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


the aperture, as well as from a narrow loop-hole in the 
wall on the side next the road, the place was lighted. 
It was a small, square room, with four walls of rugged 
stone and a hard floor of beaten earth. 

Guisardo was standing near me, and behind him 
Rocco, who bore a large platter laden with several 
dishes whose contents smoked and sent forth a grate- 
ful fragrance, a bottle and a couple of glasses. Both 
of the Italians had pistols stuck in their belts, and it was 
plain that they intended to take no chances of our 
escaping. 

“So you’re awake, are you, little devil with the 
angel face.? ” grinned Guisardo as he met my eyes. 
“ Rouse up that other son of Satan, and eat what 
the contessa has sent to you. Understand well that it 
comes from her. Could Father Giacomo and myself 
have had our way it's little lining you’d get for your lean 
ribs ! Stir yourselves, I say, and don't keep us waiting. 
Give them their breakfast, Rocco, and pour out their 
wine for them. You need not be afraid of the flask, 
’tis not spiced like the one you had last night.” 

Rocco placed his burden before us, and we set to 
work at it with right good will. The food was well- 
cooked and hot, the wine was excellent, and I for my 
part blessed the Lady Aliandra for her thought of us. 
Even the stern heart of Poignet d'Acier softened con- 
siderably toward the coniessa. He confessed as much 
to me afterward. 

When the last morsel had vanished and the flask was 
empty, the mountaineers, who had stood in silent 
vigilance beside us all the time we were eating, de- 
parted with the platter and we were left alone. * 

No one came near us, occasional visits to the loop- 
hole showed us no signs of life stirring about the part 
of the inn that we could see. The time dragged 
heavily for both of us. We had pipes and tobacco, 
but no means of striking a light, as our captors had 
relieved us of our tinder-boxes. Thus a new hardship 
was added to our captivity. 

• Finally we settled down on the floor, saying little 
and each busy with his own thoughts. Those of 
Renaud Bronsard were not pleasant, to judge from the 
manner in which he pulled and twisted his" mustache. 
As for mine, I could not keep them from the Lady 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


51 

Aliandra. The spell of her wondrous beauty was strong 
upon me, and despite my recollection of the savage 
and revolting deeds due to the brutal vengeance by 
the wretches whom her wrongs had roused to action 
I could not find it in my heart to hate her. 

How could I, with the blood of Pierre David 
scarce dry on my hand, blame the girl for avenging 
upon Roussel and the others the terror and disgust 
their fiendish designs must have caused her.? 

They fed us again at midday, but we had little heart 
to eat. When Rocco took away the dishes he told us 
that the contessa would be pleased to visit us in 
the course of the afternoon. 

Barely an hour had elapsed before she came, with 
him for a body-guard. 

I glanced out, the four sons of Giacomo, armed with 
short rifles were watching the entrance. The Italian 
beasts would take no chance of our escape. 

As she entered that barren cell the girl’s beauty 
seemed to light it up. Not a trace of the emotions of 
the nig’ht before were on her face, every line of her 
countenance was soft and. womanly. 

Motioning Rocco to close the door and remain there, 
she advanced to where we stood. 

I bowed my prettiest ; and even stern Bronsard 
saluted grimly as the beautiful creature remarked in 
a voice that was wondrous sweet to listen to : “I trust 
that my orders have been carried out, and that you 
have wanted for nothing.?” 

“ We have been well fed, mademoiselle I answered. 
“Indeed we have fared better as to stomach comforts 
than we had done were we with our regiment.” 

“I wish with all of my heart and soul that you were 
with your regiment now, and that regiment at home 
in France, where it should be,” she said impulsively. 
“Ah, why cannot you Frenchmen leave the world in 
peace ! Why must you invade our dear Italy and 
bring the awful scenes of war among these hills ! ” 

“ But, mademoiselle , I protested, “ we come only in 
self-defense. You know as well as I do that the foes 
of the Republic menace her from this quarter. That 
to beat them we must fight them, and better here than 
in France.” 

“But theirs is a just cause,” she cried. “They 


52 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


would crush the anarchy, which you uphold. They 
would aveng-e the murder of a king — ” 

“Who belied his royal blood, mademoiselle, and who 
could not rule," I interrupted sternly. “The hand of 
God dethroned Louis Sixteenth, his execution was by 
decree of Providence." 

“Strange names to hear in the mouth of a French 
trooper,” she said with a smile, “for your govern- 
ment denies all religion, you know. Do you forget the 
/He of the Goddess of Reason ? ” 

“In that matter, mademoiselle, the government and 
Georges Luc do not agree,” I answered simply, “/ 
know that God rules all things, and I feel that he fights 
on the side of the Republic.” 

“You feel that ! ” she exclaimed. “ You can stand 
there and — but I forget my place. It is not for me to 
argue with a sans-culoiied' 

The scorn and contempt in her tone I cannot de- 
scribe. They were overwhelming. 

It enraged me to mark the disdainful emphasis with 
which she dwelt upon the word ** sans-culotle ’' — the 
title I so dearly loved to apply to myself. 

“You are right, mademoiselle," I said angrily, “argu- 
ment between persons of our respective stations is not 
profitable. We know what to do with aristocrats, at 
least. It were better for your class had they found out 
long ago what to do with us.” 

“I know one who understands,” she remarked sig- 
nificantly, “and he is but too eager to be engaged 
teaching you manners. You may know him some day, 
too, though I trust you may never meet. For he loves 
his country above everything, and his patriotism makes 
him do deeds that would seem cruel, had they not that 
excuse.” 

“Sc) you hope I and this paragon may not become 
acquainted, mademoiselle P" I smiled. “Why.?” Some- 
how I seemed to hate this aristocrat while she spoke 
of him. 

“Because — because I am grateful to you, and would 
not have you die. If you fell into his hands, you Re- 
publicans could hope for little pity from him. Am I 
not right, Rocco ? ” 

“Count Luca hates the French,” Rocco replied 
with a grin. 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


“And before long they will tremble at his name,” 
Aliandra continued with enthusiasm. “ He will show 
them what it is to invade a nation like Italy.” 

“You seem quite positive, mademoiselle,'’ \ remarked 
in a dry tone. 

“ I hope for his own sake that he'll not employ such 
methods as were put in practise last night.” 

“Ah ! I see by your shudder and the way you re- 
gard me that you blame me for the fate of your com- 
rades,” she said in a quivering, hesitating voice that 
grew firmer as she proceeded. “Of course I ought to 
expect as much, but I would not have misunder- 
stand me. Your coming to my aid so promptly yes- 
terday showed me that yours is a chivalrous soul, 
though doubtless the blood of peasants flows in your 
veins. ” 

^^Mademoiselle," I replied in haughty scorn, “though 
the blood in my body comes not from a strain of 
nobles, it is blood that has never stooped to slay by 
a stab in the dark. ” 

She came close up to me, her eyes full of entreaty. 

“But you cannot fail to understand me, Monsieur 
Luc,” she answered quickly. “You can conceive the 
feelings roused in my heart when that loathsome ser- 
geant dared to lay rude hands upon me." 

“But we balked the sergeant of his purpose, made- 
moiselle, and you escaped unharmed,” I remonstrated. 

“ Unharmed P ” The girl’s eyes were blazing. “You 
call it no harm then that I suffered the polluting touch 
of that man, and read his vile purpose in his degraded 
countenance.? I, a woman whom no man had ever 
before dared to treat with disrespect. Boy, you are 
little more than a child, and you cannot have worn a 
uniform long, but you are quick of temper and ready 
of hand to avenge an insult. Giannetta told me after 
your departure why Rocco dug a grave. How would 
you feel if God had created you a woman — if he had 
denied you the right and the strength to maintain your 
honor with your own hand — how would you feel, I say, 
if you were treated as I was .? Would you sit quietly 
down and weep, and thank the Madonna that it was no 
worse? Or would you thirst for the blood of your in- 
sulters ? ” 

Dieu I how beautiful she was ! I can see now her 


54 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


flashing eyes, her trembling lips, her heaving, pant- 
ing bosom ! A heart of stone must have moved in 
sympathy for her. 

‘ ‘ Mademoiselle, ” I cried impetuously, “you need say 
no more. So far as you are concerned, the death that 
ended my comrades is forgotten. Your wrong was 
your warrant for what you did.” 

“Thanks, monsieur, for your words,” she returned, 
flashing a bewitching smile at me. “ And your com- 
rade here ? I should be sorry to have him think ill of 
me.” 

“What is done, mademoiselle, cannot be recalled,” 
Poignet d’Acier said gravely. “It is more to the 
point, I think, to inquire concerning the disposi- 
tion you intend to make of ourselves. Do you in- 
tend to keep us locked up here for any length of 
time ” 

“ Indeed I do not,” the Lady Aliandra answered 
sweetly, “you will have to bear confinement only 
until this evening. When night has fallen I intend 
to have you escorted back to the frontier. You are 
making war against my country, you know, and I 
must do what I can to lessen the number of our enemies 
in the field.” 

“Exactly, I understand your motive, mademoiselle,'' 
dryly remarked Poignet d’Acier. ‘ ‘ I suppose that you 
will not accompany us on our night-march ? ” 

“Why no, of course not,” she said, laughing. “I 
shall bid you farewell here, and return to the cottage 
of Giannetta, where present circumstances compel 
me to make my home, though the garb of a peasant 
seems no great protection to me.” 

* ‘ In that case, mademoiselle, if you feel at all in our 
debt for the trifling service Georges did you yesterday, 

I will suggest that you discharge it by having a few 
masses said for our souls by any priest you may happen 
upon. There are plenty of them in Italy, and though 
we hold such things of no value since we rid ourselves 
of our tyrants, still they might help us rest easier in our 
graves,” Renaud observed. 

“But why should I have masses said for you, who 
are still alive .? ” Aliandra demanded. 

“Because our lease, of life will be decidedly brief 
once you leave us,’’ I remarked, conviction in my tone. 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


55 


“ You no doubt intend to place us under the guidance 
of the landlord and his sons ? ” 

“Yes, that was undoubtedly my purpose,” the lady 
returned, her eyes wide with astonishment. “In their 
hands you may be sure of arriving safe — ” 

“At the frontier of another land than France, made- 
moiselle,'’ I finished her sentence for her. “We’d not 
live many moments after your back was turned, believe 
me.” 

“They would not dare to disobey my orders,” she 
asserted, raising her lovely head and setting firmly her 
charming mouth. 

“As you will, mademoiselle,” I said, shrugging my 
shoulders. “Only, as my comrade suggests, let the 
masses be said, if ’twill not incommode you to do so.” 

She gazed at me, with indecision in her face for a 
moment. 

“You think that they would kill you ? ” she said at 
length. 

“They’d like nothing more than to have the chance, 
mademoiselle I ” 

“Then they shall not have it! I will send Rocco 
with you. He will keep them in order, and they will 
not venture to harm you while he protects you. Do 
you hear, Rocco.? You will accompany the French 
gentlemen to-night and see that they have no ill at the 
hands of Giacomo and his sons. Rocco is my foster- 
brother, Monsieur Luc, and he will never suffer my will 
to be thwarted. Now, you see you may set your fears 
at rest.” 

Mademoiselle,” I laughed, “the emotion you 
mention has no place in the make-up of a chasseur-a- 
cheval” 

“ Not even in such a youthful one as you are .? ” she 
asked, archly. “ No, no, do not be angry I I would 
not have you take offense. Tell me, is there nothing 
more I can do for your comfort .? ” 

“ If you’ll have them give us the means to light our 
pipes, contessa, Twill be of great service to us,” Poi- 
gnet d'Acier said somewhat shamefacedly. 

“ See to it, Rocco, and let some blankets be brought 
hither. After sundown, ITl come to give you my fare- 
wells.” 

The Lady Aliandra took leave of us with a friendly. 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


56 

though haughty, smile, and I can tell you that she left 
two admirers in that little stone hut. 

“ Renaud,” I said fervently, “ that’s a woman ! ” 

^'Darnel Georges,” rejoined the mailre-d’armes, 
“ dost imagine I thought her a man in petticoats.?” 

Rocco soon returned with flint and steel and a couple 
of blankets. 

Smoking and chatting, the hours slipped past more 
rapidly. 

The sun was already touching the horizon, if one 
could judge from the fast waning light in our cell, when 
Renaud Bronsard suddenly leaped to his feet and stood 
with his head bent forward, listening intently. 

“Hark! Dost hear that, Georges.?” he said pres- 
ently, raising a finger to enjoin my attention. I strained 
my ears, but nothing rewarded my effort save the 
murmur of the breeze in the trees of the forest. 

“ I hear nothing, Renaud,” I answered sullenly. 

“ Hush, boy 1 Let me listen,” he commanded, then 
whispered : 

“Cavalry are coming, advancing along the road 
from the south ! They’ll be here within five minutes I 
Sacre nom ! In five minutes we’ll be free men, 
Georges 1 And then, my boy, a rope for friend Gia- 
como, the same to each of his sons, and a torch to 
that accursed nest of theirs ! Vwe la Republique ! ” 

I was wild in a moment. I could hear it myself 
now. The rattle of hoofs, the banging of the scab- 
bards, the jingle of bits and spurs, all of the unmistak- 
able noises made by cavalry on the march I could 
distinctly make out. 

At the loophole we stood with our cheeks crushed 
against the rough stones, eager for a first glimpse of 
our rescuing comrades. We saw Giacomo and the 
others come out into the road and stand shading their 
eyes with their hands as they gazed to the south- 
west. 

“ Ay, look away, accursed old cutthroat 1 ” I heard 
Poignet d’Acier mutter. “In short space we’ll treat 
you to a higher spying-place than you have now.” 

Still the mountaineers seemed to feel no alarm at the 
approach of the coming troopers. On the contrary 
they waved their hats and screeched out shrill calls of 
welcome. 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


57 


The next moment the part of the road embraced by 
our contracted vision was full of horsemen, pulling up 
their stamping steeds in a cloud of dust before the door. 
They numbered above a score, including two officers. 
They all rode great black chargers ; and, alas, for our 
hopes ! they were garbed in the scarlet uniforms and 
crowned with the leathern, brass-mounted, red horse- 
tailed helmets of the Sardinian carbineers. 

Poignet d’Acier was too astonished and crestfallen to 
utter a single oath, and for my part I own to a curious 
sort of chill at the pit of my stomach. 

We watched our friend Giacomo sweeping his hat in 
the dirt before the senior officer as he welcomed him, 
and then we left the loophole and sat down on our 
blankets again. Neither one of us said a word. What 
we wanted to do was to digest our chagrin in quiet. 

But that quiet we did not long enjoy. Our door 
soon creaked on its hinges and we heard Giacomo’s oily 
voice say : “The two that we left alive are here, Ulus- 
trissimo. ” 

“ And in there it’s black night," rejoined sharp tones 
that were unknown tons. “Bring torches, some of 
you, and quickly, too." 

Two flaring bits of resinous wood presently gave the 
desired illumination to our abiding place. The owner 
of the curt, snappy tongue was not slow to enter and 
look us over, and we returned him the favor with in- 
terest. 

Indeed he was not bad to look upon, — a tall, slender, 
graceful Italian gentleman, with regular classical 
features, olive skinned and clean shaven. His form 
was well-propoctioned, erect and wiry, and he carried 
off well his gorgeous uniform of a captain. I took 
special note of his hands, which were narrow and long, 
with thin, nervous fingers that worked at times as he 
spoke. 

“ Well, ciiizens , — for that’s what you all are in France 
now, I believe," he said, using our language and speak- 
ing with an ironical, sneering manner I by no means 
relished, “Giacomo tells me you and your comrades 
have been dancing to a pretty tune hereabouts, and 
that he has been forced to put some restraint on you. 
ril take you off his hands, however, but first I want to 
know whom I have the pleasure to call my prisoners. 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


5S 

You there, the older, give me your own and your com- 
rade s names, rank and regiment.” 

“Renaud Bronsard, mattre-d’armes, Georges Luc, 
private, both chasseur s-d-cheval in the regiment Dam- 
remont,” promptly replied Poignet d'Acier. 

“Good. When and where did you leave your reg- 
iment .? ” 

“Yesterday morning, on the Genoa road.” 

“Good again. Who is in command of the French 
army } ” 

“General Bonaparte.” 

“And of your own corps } ” 

“General Laharpe. ” 

“Do you know how many men your army num- 
bers .? ” 

“Yes.” 

“You do.? What force has your general?” And 
the captain bent forward eagerly. 

“Five million men.” 

The captain lost his temper immediately. He spit 
out a collection of chattering Piedmontese blasphemy. 

‘ ‘ Malediction on you ! ” he cried. “You are a j ester, I 
see. So am I. Fm going to play a merry jest now. 
Andrea,” to a corporal who held one of the torches, 

^ ‘ let half a dozen files take their carbines, and straight- 
way send this gentleman to the other world. He’s 
too accomplished for this one.” 

“Softly, softly,” Giacomo interposed, pulling the 
captain’s sleeve. “Remember, la coniessa would see 
it. Count Luca. Better to wait.” 

‘ ‘ Diavolo ! So she would, Giacomo. Therefore we’ll 
defer the pleasure. Come, we’ll get notlving from them, 
Giacomo, and I am hungry. You needn’t mind feed- 
ing these gentlemen to-night, their stomachs are too 
full of pride to carry any further burden.” 

Away they tramped to their supper. The room was 
dark again, and I was busy with all sorts of haunting 
doubts and conjectures. 

So this was the Count Luca, the Italian patriot whose 
praises the Lady Aliandra had vaunted ; in what rela- 
tion did he stand to the lovely contessa ? Why should 
the mere suggestion that she was at hand prevent the 
execution of Poignet d’Acier ? Did he have a lover’s 
solicitude for the beautiful girl’s tender nerves ? 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


59 


These thoughts, and many more, chased through my 
brain in quick succession. Before I had even suggested 
an answer to one of them I heard my name whispered 
from the direction of the door. 

“Monsieur Luc," came the musical accents of the 
Lady Aliandra, in a subdued and cautious key, “rise, 
you and your comrade, and follow me if you care for 
life." 


CHAPTER VIII. 

TRIC-TRAC THE MOUNTEBANK. 

We hastened to the door. Two dim figures stood in 
the gloom outside. 

The nearest caught my arm as I emerged, saying in 
a swift whisper : “ Hush ! As little noise as you can, 
and all speed. Rocco, guide the other.” 

A warm little hand was slipped in mine, and I 
stepped beside the Lady Aliandra, with the blood 
pulsing and coursing like fire in my veins. Sapristil 
but the touch of that girl would have roused a flame 
in an octogenarian ! 

Some fifty steps we made, and then the shadow of a 
long low building loomed before us, and I recognized 
the stables. The lady halted me under shelter of the 
wall, and Rocco came up presently with Poignet 
d’Acier. 

“ I find that it will not be possible for me to have 
you sent back to France, as I had purposed.” 

The contessa spoke in plain but guarded accents. 

“The soldiers intend to carry you with them when 
they move at midnight, for they claim you as prison- 
ers of war. Rocco assures me that it is the mind of 
their officer to have you shot so soon as you are be- 
yond my protection. You stood my friends, and I 
would prove to you that if my house are quick to 
avenge injuries, they are slow to forget favors. So 
you must be off while they are at supper. A sentry is 
at the crossing of the roads, but Rocco can take you 
around the inn and guide you by a path that turns into 
the way to Genoa, about a quarter of a mile to the 
south. By daylight you ought to meet French troops. 


6o 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


for they were marcliing on Voltri to-day. At least so 
the officer in command of the horsemen stated.” 

•‘Who is this officer, mademoiselle 1 asked curi- 
ously. “I shall not forget his features, but 1 would 
like to learn his name, if you have no objection to 
giving it to me.” 

“ He is my cousin, the patriot I spoke of, the Count 
Luca di Campogiacinto, captain of carbineers, and on 
the staff of General Colli,” she answered proudly. 
“ He is on his way from Ceva to the headquarters of 
General Beaulieu, and bears despatches. But we must 
not waste time. Here, 1 have your saber under my 
cloak, my young chasseur. I picked it out from all 
the others, as well as your pistols. They are loaded, 
and Rocco has done as much in the way of weapons 
for your comrade. Hasten to arm yourself.” 

I felt ten times stronger when that leathern belt was 
once more buckled about my waist. Depend upon it, 
nothing can give a man more comfort than to know 
he has a well-tried bit of steel by his side. 

“I am ready, mademoiselle," I said, caressing the 
butts of my pistols. “Rocco may start when he 
pleases.” 

“Farewell, then, Monsieur Luc,” Aliandra whis- 
pered, laying her hand again in mine. “The Ma- 
donna keep you safe from harm.” 

I have ever been impulsive, and Poignet d'Acier 
had told me never to let an opportunity escape. I 
pressed those divine fingers to my lips, covering them 
with kisses. 

“ Not farewell, mademoiselle, only au revoir,” I mur- 
mured as I dropped her hand. Until then, know that 
I love you with all my heart.” 

I think she laughed. It was too dark for me to see, 
and what I heard may have been the sound of sup- 
pressed weeping. At all events she sprang away into 
the darkness and left us to the care of Rocco. 

The young giant, complying with his lady’s direc- 
tions, guided us silently across the road and around 
the inn. From the building came the roar of a jovial 
drinking-song, and it was plain to us that the carbi- 
neers were making merry with the good liquor of 
Landlord Giacomo. 

On the eastern side of the house a window 


was 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


6l 


open, and from the low casement broad rays of lig^ht 
streamed out into the darkness. It was easy for us to 
crouch aloni^r the wall until this dangerous point was 
passed, and we went safely by. 

As we cleared the line of the inn, Rocco muttered in 
my ear, “ The Count Luca is in there. He sups alone. 
He has given orders that they shall not disturb him 
for an hour.” 

I stopped on the instant. Something in the peas- 
ants voice placed a sudden thought in my head. I 
acted on it at once. 

“ Rocco,” I said quickly, “ you have no love for the 
Count Luca, I will gage.” 

“Such love I bear him as Satan bears the Sacra- 
ment,” he answered promptly. “ He had me scourged 
once. I feel the stripes every time 1 look at his smooth 
face. ” 

“Then wait here, where we cannot miss you, at the 
angle of the wall. Poignet d’Acier, I am going back. 
Come after me, and make no noise.” 

“What’s in your head now, Georges.?” Renaud re- 
monstrated angrily, but in a whisper. ‘ ‘ To go back ! 
’tis the height of madness ! 

“Not so, my dear Renaud; far from it. Listen to 
what I say. We've come off from this affair with very 
little glory. Our comrades are no more, and when we 
get back to the squadron we’ll have a fine tale to tell 
the chief, won’t we ? Befooled by a lot of wretched 
peasantry, eh ? Now, I’m not willing to go back in 
that fashion. The scarlet puppy in yonder room has 
upon his person despatches, doubtless of importance. 
Them I intend to carry away with me, or I’ll leave my 
bones to bleach in these mountains ! ” 

“ Like my old captain all over, par la harhe de Sailit 
Pierre I ” swore Renaud Bronsard. “ Lead on, Georges, 
and I’ll not fail thee.” 

Back under the window I crept, pistol in hand. The 
sill was low, and standing erect, my eyes rose above 
it. Swiftly I straightened up, caught the wood in a 
firm grip, and swung myself into the room. 

The Count Luca, sitting at a table with his back to 
the window, while he plied a vigorous knife aiul fork, 
wheeled angrily about in his chair. A curse of dismay 
upon his lips that died away into terror-struck silence 


62 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


as I thrust the muzzle of my weapon into his face. 
Poubless the Italian noble was not wanting in courage. 
Indeed, I myself was one day to see him fight with a 
coolness and ferocity that were almost superhuman. 
But, brave or not, at that moment he turned as pale as 
paper, and half raised a hand in imploring gesture. 

“ Don’t move ! ” I whispered sharply, and the men- 
ace in my eyes gave force to my words. “You may 
speak, but if you raise your voice, I’ll shoot. Where are 
your despatches ? ” 

“Who told you I have despatches ” he whispered. 
“ ’Tis false, and — ” 

“Stop lying,” 1 hissed fiercely. “Here, Poignet 
d’Acier, twist his neck until he can’t cry out, and then 
we’ll search him.” 

The nimble fingers of Renaud Rronsard had a 
packet of papers out from the prisoner’s breast in a 
twinkling. He likewise felt the Count Luca’s body 
well, making sure that no more documents were con- 
cealed in his clothes. With the Count’s own belt and 
the straps of his saber and sabertache we bound him 
hard and fast, gagging him tightly with a table napkin. 

Then we slipped out of the window, found Rocco 
where we had left him, and hurried away at the best 
speed we could use with prudence, following the path 
through the forest mentioned by the Lady Aliandra. 

“ Did you kill him ? ” asked the peasant eagerly. 

“No, only robbed him ! ” laughed Bronsard. 

“ Then, beware of him,” remarked the mountaineer. 
“Count Luca never forgets.” 

Rocco knew the country well. Within twenty min- 
utes we reached the spot where the path joined the 
road to Genoa, and here the peasant lad bade us 
adieu. 

“You must go straight forward now, and I would 
counsel you not to linger or look behind you,” he said 
in parting. “ Our Lady guide you safe ! I shall remem- 
ber you well, you two ! You aided Lady Aliandra, 
and you cheated the Count Luca! Diavolo /” 

We shook him heartily by the hand, and then we 
plunged away into the darkness, holding our sheathed 
sabers in our left hands and running along, shoulder to 
shoulder, at a dog-trot. We kept the same steady pace, 
though to men accustomed to make their marches on 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


63 

horseback it was no easy work. At times one or other 
would slip or stumble and lurch heavily against his 
companion. But we panted grimly forward. We 
dared not relax our speed, for we knew not how soon 
the pursuit would be hot upon our track. It was a 
race for life. So we plodded doggedly on. 

Suddenly both of us stopped short in our trot and 
halted together at the same instant. Diagonally for- 
ward on our left the blaze of a light among the trees 
had caught our eyes. 

“ du diable ! 'tis a camp-fire! Can there be 

troops of ours around it ” muttered the matire d’ar tries. 

Taking every precaution to avoid betraying our 
presence, we approached the blaze. It had been 
lighted in a small open space among the trees, perhaps 
fifty feet from the road. Soon we were near enough 
to distinguish two figures seated before it, both busily 
engaged in eating. Slipping quietly from tree to tree, 
we gained a position that enabled us to make out every 
detail in the appearance of these feasters of the forest. 
And a bizarre and outlandish pair they were ! 

Picture to yourself a dwarfed', wizened little man 
past the age of fifty years, alert and lively in every 
motion he made while satisfying his hunger, a thatch 
of thick gray hair flowing from beneath a kind of scar- 
let night-cap, that hung down behind. About his 
yellow, wrinkled cheeks bristled a gray stubble of 
beard three or four days old. He had a wide mouth, 
pointed nose and sharp chin. Under his bushy black 
eyebrows glanced a pair of restless, red-lidded gray 
eyes. The upper part of his body was covered by a 
tawny-colored coat, the cloth shaggy and coarse in 
texture. On his legs, which he had crossed under him 
like a Turk, he wore an old pair of military trousers 
and leggings of leather, like those of the mountaineers. 
Add a pair of stout shoes, the soles well garnished 
with nails, and you will have a fair idea of the person 
who sat in the firelight nearest to our point of view. 

But if I say that the man was strange to look upon, 
what adjective can be used to describe his companion .? 
For the second banqueter was a monstrous, hairy ape, 
huge of bulk, long armed, fully six feet high when he 
stood erect, with a muzzle and face of bright azure 
hue, lined with stripes of black and orange. A dingy, 


64 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


faded forage-cap, bearing a tarnished band of gold 
lace, was held upon his head by the chin-strap, passed 
beneath his jaws, and it had fallen rakishly over the 
right eye. For the rest, his body was thickly pro- 
tected by short brown hair, rubbed away in places 
showing the pink skin. A broad, nearly healed, gash 
from some sharp instrument seamed his left hind- 
quarter. As the beast picked and selected certain 
choice bits of food with his great black hands, one 
could plainly see that beneath his hide lay muscles of 
prodigious power. 

While we stared at them, the man finished his meal, 
produced a short, black pipe, filled it and began to 
smoke. Blowing two thin clouds from his nostrils, he 
addressed the monkey in a thin, squeaky voice that 
would have sounded a fitting accompaniment to a 
shrill penny-whistle at a village fair. 

“Confess, Agricola, my only friend in the world, 
that the present condition of our affairs might be 
worse. Last night we were straining every nerve and 
using all the wit Nature has bestowed upon me to 
evade those white-coated beer-swillers, the Kaiser- 
licks. There was for us the pleasing certainty of 
taking a dance upon nothing at the end of a rope, if 
the soldiers of the Emperor Francis managed to lay 
hands upon us. During the hours of daylight we have 
crept and crawled along in the forest ; now we are 
past the den of that old thief Giacomo, we may enjoy 
a fire and be warm again. In the course of a couple 
of hours we’ll be famously rested. And then en avant, 
to Voltri, where we’ll be once more under the tricolor. 
Rejoice with mie, then. Agricola, for our perils are 
nearly over.” 

To the little man’s speech the ape made no reply, of 
course. But he was not to go unanswered. Both 
Poignet d’Acier and myself were rejoiced to hear once 
more the good speech of France, and the words had 
been uttered in the tongue of our country. 

Par Dicu ! A Frenchman ! Hola ! comrade, can 
you make room at your fire and board for a couple of 
countrymen .? ” cried the maitre Pannes. 

As he spoke we left our sheltering tree-trunks and 
stepped out into the firelight. 

The little man rose as if set on springs, and seized 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


65 

with his left hand a stout club, his right being at the 
same time thrust into his bosom. The ape rumbling 
out a menacing growl, ranged himself at his side. 

“ Qui va Id P our friend of the fire demanded. ‘ ‘ Come 
no nearer, I warn you, before I am content that you 
are friends. Agricola and I are perfect devils for fight- 
ing, once we begin ! ” 

“ I don’t doubt it, comrade, and I'll not put your 
words to the proof, ” laughed Poignet d’Acier. “We 
two are chasseurs of Damremont, and you should 
know our uniform. Lay down your club and tell your 
friend that we are compatriots. Then give us some of 
the food you have there, for we have fasted since mid- 
day.” 

The little man at once threw his hostile attitude, 
and after a glance at our green jackets gave us a 
hearty welcome. He asked our names ; and when he 
learned that of Poignet d’Acier, cried out that it was 
well known to him. 

“ I have heard much talk of you, and I bless the day 
that honors me with the acquaintance of the first 
swordsman in the army, ” he declared. ‘ ‘ My name has 
perchance never reached your ears, for I am but a 
homeless, friendless vagabond at the best, with no 
one to care for me save my ape, Agricola. Yet there 
are some who wear French uniforms, and of no mean 
rank at that, who have good cause to be glad that they 
know Tric-trac the mountebank.” 

The food in Tric-trac’s wallet was not such as one 
would subsist on if one had a choice. Hungry men 
are not apt to be fastidious, and we were unmistak- 
ably hungry men. So we ate with a relish, and the 
juggler became more beaming with every mouthful we 
took. 

As he ate, Renaud Bronsard told of our adventures. 
At the name of Count Luca, I noticed the mounte- 
bank’s eyes shine with a strange light, and he became 
more attentive, if possible, than before, when the de- 
spatches were mentioned. 

“Where are they ? ” he. cried, abruptly breaking into 
the niaitre d'armes recital. “Have you examined 
them, those same despatches ? ” 

I thought the man had gone mad, his manner was 
so excited. But Poignet d Acier answered calmly : 

5 


66 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


“ We have not yet had an opportunity. The papers 
are safe enough, however, are they not, Georges ? " 

“Let me see them,’’ Tric-trac begged eagerly. 
“Though we have scant time to spare, 1 implore you 
let me cast an eye over their contents.” 

“ Well, old fellow, you’ve been a cordial host to us, 
and I don’t know that ’twould do any harm if you 
read the Austrian-general’s letters. It must be while I 
hold them, though, and, be warned in advance, that it 
you make any suspicious movements or attempt to 
touch them, Georges there will treat your carcase to a 
pistol ball,” the maitre d'armes concluded with a curt 
nod at me. 

The documents were produced and the two bent over 
them, while I sat and watched them, ready to fulfil 
Poignet d’Acier’s menace in case need arose. The 
mountebank read no farther than halfway down the 
first page. Then, with a quick oath, he leaped to his 
feet. 

Mordieu ! ” he cried, “I have seen enough. Put 
up the papers. Citizen Poignet d’Acier, and guard 
them as you would your life. Instead of going to Vol- 
tri, you must come with mie to Savona. Bonaparte is 
there, and when you place what you’ve gained in his 
hands, you’ll do the Republic great service. As soon 
as Count Luca is free, every man and horse he can 
command will be hot on the track. Come, aid me to 
extinguish the fire and then we’ll be off. Hasten, 
I say, every instant adds to our peril.” 

We rose, and started to smother the blaze. Hardly 
had we made a good beginning when Tric-trac paused 
and held up his hand. 

“ Listen ! ” he commanded. 

From the forest road to the north there came to us 
upon the breeze of the evening the sound of the hoofs 
of horses, urged to a headlong speed. It swept rap- 
idly nearer. 

^^Sacre nom ! ” the mountebank whispered, “they’re 
upon us already.” 

A loud shout, then a chorus of cries told us that the 
fire was discovered. 

“We won’t run this time, Georges,” the maitre 
d’armes said, looking at me with a smile, that for all 
its grimness, had in it something wistful and tender. 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


6 ; 

“ ’Tis hard for thee to die so young. But what remains 
to us but that.? Thou’d'st not wish to surrender, my 
boy ? ” 

“Never, Renaud, d la ??iorl\'’ I returned, while I 
seized a pistol in either hand. 


CHAPTER IX. 

“why crawl when one can ride " 

“Fools !” Tric-trac cried impatiently. 

From the road we heard the plunging and snorting 
of steeds checked while in full career, the rattle and 
clash of the carbineers flinging themselves from their 
saddles to the ground. 

The mountebank tore the coat from his back and 
flung it over the half extinguished fire. For the in- 
stant we were shrouded in darkness. 

‘ ‘ Quick ! ” he gasped. 

With his left hand he seized me by the shoulder, 
his right performing the same service for Poignet 
d’Acier, and rapidly he urged us into the bushes, head- 
ing north. One shrill whistle he uttered as a signal to 
his ape, whom I could hear leaping alongside. 

Some fifty steps we crushed through the underbrush, 
and then Tric-trac ordered in a sharp but low tone, 

“Down upon your bellies in all haste. The noise 
they make themselves must have covered our flight, 
but from here it is safer to creep.” 

We obeyed without demur. As I sank to the ecirth 
I cast a hasty glance back over my shoulder. The fire 
was beginning to flare up again, and guided by the in- 
creasing blaze the Sardinian troopers were crashing 
toward the spot where they expected to find the objects 
of their pursuit. 

“On, on,” Tric-trac reiterated, “quietly, but as 
swiftly as you can.” 

With all care we began to creep norihward . guided 
every second by the clear whispers of the juggler. It 
is not a pleasant way of traveling, this all-fours for- 
mation. Saerk ! how the little rocks and stones hurt 
one’s knees ! 


68 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


A furious yell of disappointment echoing through the 
trees made us aware that our enemies had reached the 
fire to find us nowhere visible. Amid the storm of 
shouts and curses there sounded one calm voice, im- 
placable and imperious, “Right and left !” it cried 
promptly. “Spread out both ways and after them. 
They can’t be far away, and we’ll have them yet ! ” 

“ Will you? ’’ the mountebank breathed to the black 
night behind us. “ Search on. Count Luca, and search 
in /A(7/ direction as long as you please. You have to 
do with IVic-trac, my gentleman, and he'll cheat you.” 

The carbineers wasted no time in obeying the orders 
of their captain. Into the forest they plunged, running 
against the trees, stumbling over fallen branches and 
bushes, bruising their shins upon great rocks in their 
reckless hurry. They called to each other continually, 
and their cries, we noticed, worked slowly SGulhward. 
One fellow must have mistaken some bush or tree trunk 
for ourselves in the darkness, for presently a carbine 
roared, and then came a sputtering volley of pistol shots, 
accompanied by a rush of the Italians toward the spot 
where they heard the first report. 

The curses of Count Luca at their stupidity quickly 
drove them back to their task of beating the woods. 

Meanwhile we still crawled and crept. I know not 
how far we had gone, for to judge distance covered in 
this manner is exceedingly difficult, when all at once 
I felt that our way lay down-hill. 

“There’s a descent here, Tric-trac,” I whispered. 

A la bonne heure ! citizen Sans-barbe,” he answered 
joyously. “ ’Twas for this place that I was heading. 
A gully it is, some eight or ten feet deep, with a path 
at the bottom. We can walk there without fear of being 
discovered if they light torches. iVnd the sound of our 
footsteps they’ll not be near enough to hear.’’ 

It was a great relief to stand erect once more. Safe 
upon the path at the end of the descent I drew a long 
breath of satisfaction. To walk is a poor enough 
manner of making one’s way in this world. But to 
crawl ! what a mode of journeying for a chasseur-d- 
cheval ! 

“Now, citizens, you must stir your legs! Along 
this path we must travel eastward for mayhap a good 
half mile. Then we’ll make a detour and come back 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


69 

to a road that leads direct to Savona, a little to the 
north and westward of where we are now. You’ll have 
a long tramp, but I’ll guarantee that you arrive safe. 
I know every foot of these mountains,” the mounte- 
bank chuckled. 

“But if your road to Savona lies north and west of 
our present position, why go east, friend Tric-trac.?” I 
objected. 

“ Sapristi ! you are young, citizen Sans-barbe, but I 
didn’t think you such a fool as to ask that question. Can’t 
you see that if we go north at 07ice the carbineers will 
be apt to pursue us .? For they will turn back very 
soon now to search in this direction. To gain the way 
I spoke of we'd have to take the road or else creep for 
the better part of the night. You’re not in the humor 
for that, are you } ’’’ 

No, decidedly I was not, yet I relished almost as 
little the idea of a long walk that I deemed might be 
avoided. “I believe we could go by the road,” I said 
stubbornly. “They won’t win their way back through 
the brush for a good half hour. And by that time we 
can be far advanced.’’ 

“No, no, dame! I tell you that I won’t take the 
risk,” the juggler rejoined. “ On foot the road is too 
dangerous. Had we horses, now, it might be done.” 

^^Parhleu! I’ve carried my point then,” I coolly 
answered. “ Follow me and in ten minutes I’ll supply 
you with the requisite beasts.” 

“ But from where t ” he demanded, and I could fancy 
his stare of astonishment, though I could not see his 
face. 

“ From the mounts of Count Luca and his men over 
there. He can’t have left more than two troopers to 
watch them. Even if there are four we’ll agree to 
take care of that many, eh, Poignet d’Acier ! ” 

Tric-trac did not speak for some seconds. 

Then he said with his voice full of admiration, 
“I am glad that I have met you. If you escape 
being shot by the enemy or hanged by the provost- 
marshal, some day you’ll be a general-of-division. 
Lead on and we’ll have the brutes in no time.” 

“ Nay,” I laughed, “as for the guiding, must do 
that. Bring us to the road, and then leave the rest to 
us.” 


70 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


En avaiit, then/’ he returned. And cautiously we 
moved along- the path, our faces turned to the west. 

Warned by Tric-trac we left the gully ere we 
reached its end, crawled up the bank and with little 
noise made our way to the road. 

The ape had kept pace with us in all our move- 
ments and appeared to comprehend some strange 
grunting noises his master had made at times for his 
benefit. Of all four of us he was the quietest, not even 
uttering a whimper. 

Onward we stole until we could distinguish the 
breathing, the occasional stamp or snort of a restless 
steed among the dark mass of horses that lined the 
road at the spot where the carbineers had dismounted. 
The beasts were not tied, for they were especially 
trained for work among the mountains — hunting ban- 
ditti 'and the like — and each was schooled to stand 
quiet when his master left his back. 

I had guessed rightly. Count Luca had ordered two 
of his followers to remain and watch the steeds of the 
rest. The sky had grown somewhat lighter, and 
against it we could make out their dim forms as they 
sat their horses in the middle of the road, talking to- 
gether in low tones. 

Foot by foot we came nearer to them, invisible 
against the black wall of the forest. 

“ Hark ! they are coming back,” one of the Italians 
said suddenly, just as the maitre d’armes pressed my 
arm and my hand ; obedient to his signal, I grasped the 
hilt of my saber. 

“From their tone they’ve met with no success,” 
rejoined his comrade. ''Cospetto! but we’ll have a 
hearty laugh at their expense, Orsino To let the 

Frenchmen fool them thus ! ” 

‘ ‘ Diavolo ! how we’ll plague them,” the other laughed 
back. 

Man is apt to be shortsighted. The contemplated 
taunts and jeers of those two particular Sardinian 
troopers were never to be spoken. 

"■Now, Georges!” Poignet d’Acier cried sharply. 
We were upon them with the leap of a pair of merci- 
less, blood-desiring panthers. Our attack took them 
completely by surprise and they made no effectual re- 
sistance. 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


7 


One ot them, the man whom I struck down, let out 
a piercing- scream and tried to rise after he crashed 
upon the roadway. A second thrust quieted him for- 
ever. His fellow-carbineer never made a sound, but 
fell dead from his saddle at once under the terrible 
blade of the maitre d'armes. 

The cry of my victim was answered on the instant 
by the voices of those whom Count Luca was leading- 
back. From the noises that reached our ears they had 
started to run toward us. 

“ 'Fo horse,” Renaud Bronsard commanded. “ Take 
the beasts that have stood, these two can scarce be so 
fresh. ” 

We mounted in haste, to my astonishment the ape 
climbing with agile speed to the saddle of a great 
charger. Tric-trac leaped his steed to my side and 
grasped my rein. 

“We two will go first,” he cried. “Do you but 
keep your seat. Citizen Sans-barbe, and I will care for 
the steering. Let the ape do the same for you, 
maitre d'armes, give him your bridle. He has traveled 
thus before and will follow me close. All ready ” 

“All ready,” Renaud Bronsard replied. 

“Away then,” called out Tric-trac, and furiously we 
dashed northward at the top of our speed. They were 
good horses, those black chargers of the Sard-cavalry. 
Heavier and bigger of bone than those we rode in the 
regiment Damremont, likewise better fed and cared for 
than our unlucky bays had been of late. In noble 
fashion they stretched to their wmrk as we hammered 
their flanks with our unarmed heels — for we had thrown 
away our spurs when we left the inn, they hindered 
us in running. Cries of rage from the place where lay 
the bodies of the unfortunate carbineers we heard be- 
fore we were out of earshot. Almost immediately in 
our track arose the crash of pursuing cavalry. 

“They’re after us, Georges!” cried the voice of 
Renaud Bronsard. 

“Let them come, were they a thousand,” I shouted 
back, carried away by my excitement. ^^Sangdieu! 
Renaud, but this is glorious ! ” 

For the moment I was mad, afire with exultation at 
the success of my plan and thrilling with the delight- 
ful sense of movement. The great, quivering, straining 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


72 

body between my knees seemed to send a portion of 
its mighty strength into my own frame, my horse and 
I seemed welded into the same creature, endowed with 
a power and energy that nothing could affright, no 
odds could daunt. But O how that ape rode ! Wild 
snorts of fear and rage came from the charger to which 
his great limbs clung. Every now and then there re- 
echoed through the forest a rib roasting thump fol- 
lowed by a neigh of terror as Agricola brought down 
a mighty blow of his great paw upon his mount to 
urge it to frenzy and to speed. 

Onward we hurtled, piercing the wall of the night 
with bound on bound, the wind in my teeth, its 
whistle in my ears, the gloom and the murk all about 
us. Dame ! but it is to live, to ride such a ride. 

That the juggler knew every foot of the country was 
no idle boast on his part. Though one could see not 
an inch before his nose in the darkness, he found his 
path as by instinct. Of a sudden he whirled our leap- 
ing steeds into a road that ran at right angles to the 
course we had pursued, and along it we tore at the 
same reckless pace. 

Those who followed after were not to be shaken off 
thus. That they knew of the existence of our new 
line of flight was evident, for they halted ere they 
passed it to listen for the sound of our horses’ hoofs. 
Their doubts satisfied, again they took up the chase, 
riding as hard and daringly as ourselves. ’Twas a 
bold horseman who would venture to urge his mount 
over that broken, rocky ground with no apparent care 
for neck and limb ! Yet Tric-trac dared it, guiding 
his horse and my own with hands firm and uner- 
ring. 

The Italians behind us were less successful. Three 
several times we heard the sickening crash of horse and 
rider rolling among the rocks. The shriek of anguish 
one poor devil gave would at any other time have 
moved my heart to pity ; but I was not myself in the 
wild exhilaration of the moment. I turned half round 
in the saddle and sent back a frantic shout : 

‘ ‘ Vive la Rkpuhlique I ” 

They fired pistols and carbines at that, but they 
could get no aim and the balls went wild in the dark- 
ness. Still they would not give it up. Count Luca 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 73 

untiringly led the chase, his voice encouraging the 
carbineers to continue their efforts to overtake us. 

With any other than Tric-trac to direct our course we 
had been lost men. Correctly and without fault he 
pointed 'the way, over the rocks, down sudden declivi- 
ties, up steep ascents, along level stretches of stony 
roadway, reining our beasts like one moved by some 
supernatural spirit. 

Though the troopers clung to us to the last and would 
not be shaken off, the loud challenge of the extreme 
outpost of the French beyond Savona brought them to 
a halt at length. As we passed the sentry we heard 
them ride slowly away into the night. 

Much to our surprise the vidette proved to be a mem- 
ber of our own squadron, and we learned that the reg- 
iment had left the march of the division Laharpe and 
had joined the center of the army that day. When 
the corporal, had conducted us to the main guard, 
Poignet d'Acier immediately approached Lieutenant 
Doumerc, who was in command, . demanding to be 
taken at once to headquarters. 

The lieutenant made some difficulty, but the ntcMre- 
d’armes insisted so strenuously that we must see the 
Commander-in-Chief, that at last the officer gave in. 
He called for his horse, and ordering us to follow set 
out for that part of the encampment where General 
Bonaparte was to be found. 

It was no “ tented field” that bivouac of the troops 
about Savona. The old practise of carrying canvas 
dwellings to war our chief had discarded. The men 
of his armies lay ever beneath the open sky when en- 
gaged in those campaigns his genius made immortal. 
Only officers of the higher ranks -were allowed tents, 
indispensable to them in the performance of their duties. 

Among the smoldering camp-fires and past the guards 
of sleeping regiments the lieutenant preceded us to 
where a marquee had been pitched, its white walls 
plainly to be seen in the light of several great blazes 
that were constantly fed with fuel by attendant sol- 
diers. A dozen yards from the circle of firelight we 
were brought to a stand by the '' Qui va Id of a 
vigilant sentinel, and it needed some sharp colloquy 
and persuasive power on the part of our officer to be 
allowed to make his way farther. 


74 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


Eventually he triumphed, and bidding us await his 
orders he advanced toward one of the fires. 

Looking beyond his figure I could see the shape of a 
single man standing before the blaze, his hands behind 
his back, his head, half-shadowed by his plumed 
cocked-hat, sunk on his chest, his legs wide apart, the 
saber trailing on the ground behind them. Several 
other officers sat upon the earth some yards away, 
smoking and chatting among themselves, but none 
venturing to interrupt the musings of that solitary form. 

The lieutenant went straight up to him, saluted, and 
appeared to utter a number of words that we could not 
hear. Then he saluted once more, his speech appa- 
rently finished. 

A voice so penetrating that every syllable was clejtr 
to me made answer. 

“ Despatches captured, you say.? And of the highest 
importance? Give them here.” 

Again by his movements Lieutenant Doumerc was 
seen to be talking. . 

Diantrel will you never have done? ” that cutting 
tone broke in before he had ended. Order them for- 
ward at once, then, and let me get to the heart of this 
affair. ” 

The lieutenant turned his face to where we stood, 
and called: “Troopers Poignet d’Acier and Sans- 
barbe, advance.” 


CHAPTER X 

GENERAL BONAPARTE 

With brisk steps we came up to where they stood 
awaiting us. The officer at the lieutenant’s side barely 
acknowledged our salutes. 

“The papers,” he demanded curtly, holding out his 
hand. 

“Here, vion general]'' Renaud Bronsard said, 
drawing them from his breast and extending them to 
the officer’s grasp. He snatched them uiiceremoni- 
ously. 

“The seal of this one is broken. How came it so ? ” 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 75 

he asked at once, his eyes bent upon the composed 
face of my comrade. 

“ 1 wished to know what we had captured, nion 
general. Therefore I examined the first despatch, '' the 
maUre-cV armes said quietly. 

“ Forget whatever you learned from it ! An order, 
do you hear ! ” and he opened the paper. 

“I am no babbler, mon general” Poignet d’Acier 
began, but the man addressed silenced him by an im- 
patient gesture, bending all his attention upon the 
document in his hands. 

As he read I took in every detail of his face and 
figure. 

He was a little man, below the middle height, and 
his body, beneath the long-skirted, gold-embroidered 
blue coat girt about his waist by the broad tri-colored 
sash that marked him a general of the Republic and 
the white breeches and the top-boots that ended some 
inches below his knees, was thin and meager. The 
features of his countenance were almost beautiful in their 
classical regularity, the high nose and the firm, Caesar- 
like lips were admirably cut. Yet the whole face was 
haggard and emaciated, pallid as if from loss of sleep 
or a sense of overwhelming responsibility. It con- 
veyed to me the impression that somewhere in this 
man there lay a craving, insatiable hunger for some- 
thing he had not yet attained, an absorbing, unappeas- 
able desire for prizes he perhaps already saw within 
his reach. As to age he was about twenty-six. 

He was not one to hesitate at any means to attain 
his ends, I mentally decided as I stared curiously at 
him. ‘ 

Just then he finished the first letter, glanced quick- 
ly up, and I lowered my eyes in confusion before 
the piercing gaze of a pair of orbs the hardest to face 
that I have ever known. They were handsome, and 
yet they were terrible, those gray, far-seeing eyes of 
Napoleon Bonaparte. They flashed into mine in that 
brief second with a light as cold and hard as steel. I 
felt the blood burn my cheeks and neck. Though not 
as a rule wanting in sang froid, I was abashed. 

So I kept my glances bent upon the earth, while he 
read the remaining letters, which, indeed, he accom- 
plished in very short space. Hearing him mutter a low 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


76 

exclamation under his breath, I ventured to look at 
him as he was folding up the last one. 

He did not heed me this time, and he appeared to 
stare beyond me into the darkness to the east. His 
lips puckered and he commenced to whistle. I knew 
the air well. Malbrouck” it was, a piece of music 
that came to be prophetic when hummed by him to 
those who studied his moods in after times. 

Abruptly he ceased his whistling, turning toward the 
group of seated officers. 

“ Berthier,” he cried, come here ! ’’ 

One of them rose and sprang to his side with respect- 
ful obedience. 

“Read!” Bonaparte commanded, handing him the 
despatches. 

While his order was being obeyed, he leaned upon 
the shoulder of the Chief-of-Staff, following the lines 
also with his own eyes. At a certain point he ex- 
tended his finger and drew it across the face of the 
paper with a gesture at once exultant and pitiless. 

“ Do you see?” he asked in a voice that came from 
between his lips in a sort of hissing jush. “Do you 
mark that? They are mine, now, par Tien I the whole 
might of Austria could not save them ! ” 

“ If they be not false,” the suave tone of General 
Berthier objected. 

“False! They cannot be so,” the Corsican cried 
impetuously. 

“But if it should be a snare,” his more cautious 
subordinate suggested. 

“ ril soon satisfy your mind on that point. Hola I 
chasseur, where got you these despatches ? ” the Gen- 
eral of the Army demanded, facing Poignet d’Acier. 

“ From a captain of Sardinian cavalry, mon g'en'eral, 
who is aide to General Colli. He was on his way 
to Beaulieu's headquarters. You see, our squadron 
marched from Albenga on — ” 

“Never mind that. Simply answer my questions. 
You know he was of Colli’s staff? ” 

“ said so, at least, mon g'en'eral,"' Renaud Bron- 
sard answered in uncertain accents. 

“ She ? Whom ? ” demanded Bonaparte. 

“ The girl Roussel insulted. When she bade Rocco 
guide us to — ” 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


77 


dell how the Commander-iii-Chiefs eyes flashed. 

“ Imbecile ! he cried in a rag-e, “ do you suppose I 
comprehend your talk of Roussel and Rocco Here, 
you other, were you companion to this great wooden- 
head } ” 

“ I had that honor, vi07i general” I managed to an- 
swer. 

“ Then try if you can tell me what I wish to know. 
Speak up and be brief.’' 

Rapidly and concisely as lay in my power, I re- 
counted the main facts of our expedition. When I 
reache<l the arrival of Count Luca at the inn Bona- 
parte checked me. 

‘ ‘ Chut ! that is enough. 1 have heard of that gentle- 
man before,” he said. “You got the letters from 
him P ” 

“ Ph'om him, mo7i general,” I replied. 

“'Then, there’s no doubt to as their veracity. Colli 
trusts him much, this same Count Campogiacinto. 
Maitre d arines, ’tis scarce worth the while to speak to 
you of promotion. You stand at the head of your pro- 
fession. My aide, Junot, will bring you a purse in the 
morning, and you may drink as many healths to the 
Republic as you like.” 

“But, Georges, what's to be done for Georges.?” 
Poignet d’Acier demanded bluntly. 

“ Who is Georges .? Do you mean your young com- 
panion ? ” Bonaparte asked with a slight frown. 

“Ay, that 1 do. Are you not going to promote 
him, Citizen general.?” 

“ But why.? What has he done, save bear you com- 
pany and share your luck in escaping.?” 

“Done.? Farhleul had it not been for him you’d 
not possess the information you value so highly.” And, 
before the general could stop him, Renaud Bronsard 
blurted out all the facts concerning the seizure of 
Count Luca. 

“There, that’s what he has done. Citizen general,” 
he wound up triumphantly. 

Bonaparte fixed a steady glance upon my face, until 
my eyes once more sank before the power of his. 

“ He names you Georges, yet I think your officer 
called you ‘ Sans-barbe,’ ” he said slowly. “ Is that 
your appellation .? ” 


78 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


“They give me that for a petit nom in the squad- 
ron, Citizen general,” 1 responded. “1 call myself 
Georges Luc.” 

“ Your pardon, Citizen general,” the maitre d'arnies 
broke in. Approaching Bonaparte he spoke to him in 
a whisper for some moments. Then he fell back and 
saluted. 

Bonaparte seemed amazed and demanded, “ Is what 
you say true, niaitre d’aj'riies ? ’Tis a curious fact if it 

“True as the Republic, i7ion genh'aip Poignet d’Acier 
averred earnestly. 

Keenly the Corsican eyed me for a few seconds more. 
Then, 

“Private Georges Luc,” he said, “you love the 
Republic .? ” 

“With all my heart. Citizen general.” 

“You will fight for her t ” 

“ I have no dearer wish than to shed my blood in 
her cause.” 

“ You hate the aristocrats } ” 

“To the guillotine with them all! Long live the 
sans-adottes / ” I cried with enthusiasm. 

General Bonaparte laughed heartily. 

“See that you never recede from such noble senti- 
ments,” he said in a dry, ironical way. “As reward 
for 3 mur presence of mind in remembering the de- 
spatches, I make you corporal. See to it, lieutenant, 
when you make your morning report,” addressing 
Doumerc. “Away with you now. Come, Berthier, to 
work at once 1 ” 

The Chief-of-Staff and the Head-of-the-Army had 
finished with us. So we saluted and made our wa}” 
back to where our horses were standing. They car- 
ried us patiently to the watch-tire where Tric-trac and 
the ape Agricola had stopped. 

Here we were presently busy recounting our adven- 
tures to a score of comrades eager to know what had 
befallen the remainder of Sergeant Roussel’s squad. 

When we had finished it is safe to say that we had 
about us as wrathful a band of sahreiirs as could be 
found at that moment in Europe. They were not 
silent in their anger, either. They could swear, the 
men who wore the green of the regiment Damremont, 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


/9 

and I fear that the Recording Angel was weary that 
night. 

The first flush of rage over, interest was transferred 
to the curious companions we had picked up in the 
woods. 

“ Sein de la Vierge I They haven't returned empty- 
handed, at all events,” growled old Nicolas Mauran, 
who had been in the regiment longer than any one 
could recall. “What sort of a traveling menagerie is 
this that thou hast picked up, viaitre d’a?'mes P” 

“ Did merit meet with its just reward in this unfeel- 
ing world it had doubtless been my happy lot to come 
to your famous regiment, accompanied by a collection 
of strange beasts, such as has never met your eyes,” 
cried Tric-trac bowing profoundly. “ Fate has decreed 
that I arrive with but one companion, and him I take 
great pride in presenting to you. Citizens, my ape, Agri- 
ricola. Agricola,” throwing to the monkey the club I 
have before mentioned, a heavy bit of smooth, polished 
wood, perhaps four feet long, which the ape caught with 
great dexterity, “ we are among soldiers, my friend, and 
moreover, they are of the cavalry. Salute, then, and ac- 
cording to the custom of their branch of the service.” 

Immediately Agricola, grasping the stick by its heavier 
end, performed with it the saber salute, making the 
air hum as he brought down his weapon. He then, 
taking the word from his master, assumed the different 
positions of attack and defense, going through the 
various cuts, parries, and lunges with an agility that 
showed him to be thoroughly well trained. 

The delight of all who beheld was unbounded. 
Poignet d'Acier wanted to embrace Agricola on the 
spot, and for my own part I thought I had never seen 
anything to compare with this talented monkey. 
Using his stick as a gun he executed the infantry man- 
ual of arms without a mistake. When his master 
asked him how he would lionor the flag of the Re- 
public, he doffed his forage cap and waved it thrice 
about his head. At mention of the standards of Aus- 
tria, England, Prussia and Russia, his response was 
to pull his headgear more firmly down over his eye, 
chattering angrily as he did so. 

Agricola’s accomplishments exhausted, Tric-trac 
took his turn at astonishing us. He was a wonderful 


8o 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


man, that Tric-trac ! He blew fire from his mouth 
and nose ; he swallowed a saber ; he took half a dozen 
keen little knives from under his coat somewhere ; let 
us feel their edges, and began throwing them into the 
air and catching them, keeping them all moving con- 
stantly, and never once cutting himself, or dropping a 
knife. He drew a handful of silver coins out of Pierre 
Santron’s nose. He found a dozen colored balls in my 
shako, where I had never suspected their presence. 
And he kept them, too, which seemed to me not quite 
fair on his part. He showed us many more feats of 
legerdemain that I cannot recall just now. Oh ! he 
was a wonderful man ! 

“ You spoke of Giacomo to your ape just before we 
made known our presence near your fire, if I mistake 
not,” I said to him. “Evidently you’ve had some 
dealings with the landlord of yon mountain inn 

“Yes, I have met him,” Tric-trac said in a dry tone. 

‘ ‘ So has Agricola. Do you see that trifling scratch on his 
leg.? Well, Citizen Sans-barbe, that’s a little memento 
of Giacomo, a souvenir of the fact that he objected to my 
performance in an inn-yard at Placentia, on the ground 
that he was not in the humor for witnessing such 
foolery. I did not desist, and he thew me out into the 
street. He is strong as an ox, Giacomo. Agricola 
sought to avenge my injury, and would have done so, 
too, but the devil of a mountaineer got his knife out and 
cut the ape as you see. So you see Agricola remem- 
bers Giacomo. I know him also. Indeed I’ve known 
him for a long time, having frequently rested at his inn 
when passing through the mountains. This is not the 
first, no nor the twentieth time I’ve crossed the fron- 
tier.” 

“Then you know the Count Campogiacinto .? ” I 
asked. 

“Yes, and it’s little good I know of him also,” an- 
swered the mountebank. “ Have a care how you trust 
yourself in his clutches after to-night, my young friend. 
A long arm and a vengeful temper has the Count Luca ! 
Viable I he’ll never forgive you for carrying away his 
papers ! ” 

“And — the — Lady Aliandra .? ” I suggested, my face 
growing red under the blaze of the camp-fire. 

“Viable! yes,” laughed the juggler. “ By your blush- 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


8l 


ing face I can give a shrewd guess at one of the 
shapes that will visit your slumbers to-night. Black 
eyes and ruby lips she has, and the form of a god- 
dess, eh ? ” 

“ What do you mean ? ” I asked sharply. 

“Nay, never be angry, lad. I mean no harm. 
Dream of her, aye, and love her, Sans-barbe, for she 
is worth it though prouder than a peacock. But what 
have you and I to do with the greatest heiress in nor- 
thern Italy.? and he began to laugh again. 

Not liking the mountebank's merriment, I surlily 
went to sleep. 

The sound of the bugles awoke us all too soon, but 
our eyes once fairly opened we had plenty to occupy us. 

The squadron had been under fire on the preceding 
day, and in consequence there were four spare horses. 
Of these we had our choice. Mine was a vicious, rat- 
tailed skeleton of a beast, formerly ridden by Jules 
Vallon, who had run against a shot from the Austrian 
cannon on the day before. According to the craze 
then prevalent in France for making use of the names 
of antiquity, my new charger rejoiced in the title of 
Cassius. Despite his uncertain temper and plainly 
displayed ribs, Cassius had one great virtue. He could 
outrun and outlast any horse in the regiment. And 
glad was I to get him. 

During the whole of that day the troops were held 
ready to march, for the Austrians were advancing, 
Beaulieu, from Genoa, against Laharpe ; D’Argenteau, 
upon Montenotte, where Rampon, with twelve hundred 
men, maintained the redoubt of Montelegino against 
him and could not be conquered. 

Warned by Luca's despatches of the Austrians' inten- 
tion to fall upon him at Savona, Bonaparte put his 
forces in motion that night, marching upon Monte- 
iiotte. 

On the 23d Germinal (April 12th) our leader began 
that series of dazzling victories that made his name 
immortal, by crushing D'Argenteau at Montenotte. 
The successes of Millessimo and Dego followed on the 
24th and 25th. 

The Austrians and Sardinians being separated by 
his brilliant maneuvers, Bonaparte held the former in 
check while he scattered the latter to fragments at 
6 


82 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


Ceva, Mondovi, and Cherasco. On the 9 th of Floreal 
the King of Sardinia concluded an armistice with the 
Republic. 

The Piedmontese disposed of, the Army of Italy 
again was directed against the soldiers of the Emperor 
Francis. Beaulieu thought to hold the river Po against 
us, but Bonaparte, feigning to cross at Valenza, be- 
guiled his veteran adimrsary to await us there, while 
by a flank march he arrived at Placentia. Here 
Lannes, who had won his rank of colonel upon the 
bloodv field of Millessimo, forced the passage on the 
morning of the i 8 th Floreal, 

At Fombio the Austrian division of Liptai strove to 
hold our advance, but they could not stay us, though 
the army suffered a serious loss in the death of General 
Laharpe. 

The Po was crossed and the way to Milan was 
open. 

Again and again had the Directorate decreed that 
“ the Army of Italy had deserved well of their country.” 

But, alas ! while every day brought fresh laurels to 
the other branches of the service, to us of the cavalry 
they passed ingloriously enough. In the rough, hilly 
country, troopers could not be employed advantage- 
ously. Besides they feared to oppose us to the superb 
horsemen of Austria. In winning our way from out 
the mountains we felt that we had no share. The gates 
of that golden treasure-house had been forced by the in- 
domitable courage of the ragged troops of the infantry. 

Yet we hoped always for better days, and heartily 
we joined in the cry of : “7b Milan I ” 

On the plains of Lombardy we cavalry could act! 


BOOK II. 


THE CONSPIRATOR OF LOMBARDY. 


CHAPTER XI. , 

THE BRIDGE OF LODI. 

Although, as I have shown, the Army of Italy had 
already won several glorious victories, little use had 
been made of the trooper, and I was yet to receive my 
“baptism of fire.” This! underwent on the memo- 
rable 20th of Floreal, during the terrible action at the 
bridge of Lodi. 

On that day I made one of a body of fifty men, chosen 
from the chasseurs-d-cheval of Damremont to act as a 
guard for the headquarters. The corps des guides^ 
which was afterwards to grow in the Imperial Guard, 
had not yet been established. And the escort of Gen- 
eral Bonaparte was taken in turn from the cavalry 
regiments, a detail from each serving on successive 
days. 

As a rule none but the best mounted and most ex- 
perienced troopers were taken for this duty. The first 
qualification my horse, Cassius, enabled me to answer 
well. The request Poignet d'Acier made to the captain 
in my behalf did the rest. So, throughout the 20th of 
Floreal I rode among the devoted band who watched 
over the safety of the General-in-chief. 

We followed in the rear of General Bonaparte and 
his staff through the morning and the afternoon, while 
the army streamed steadily on toward Lodi. Steady, 
but by no means rapid was the advance. Austrian troops 
were retiring close before us, and whoever was in com- 
mand of them, he had no mind to let us pursue our way 
in peace. 


83 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


84 

So persistently did the enemy oppose our van that 
the sun was. fast nearing the horizon as we came in 
sight of the roofs of Lodi. Within the houses of the 
town the Austrians had gathered for a last desperate 
stand, and as we came on across the dusty plain at 
a gallop the musketry rolled furiously around the white 
walls while the cheers and cries of the combatants 
mingled and filled the air with horrible discords. 

Before we reached the line of battle our men had 
carried the nearest houses, and the fight went roaring 
up the streets of the town, checked occasionally for a 
moment, but ever pushing toward the river. 

Along the principal street, where the heavy smoke 
of gunpowder still hung in the air and the blood- 
plashed ground was so thickly sown with corpses that 
it was impossible for our horses to avoid stepping on 
them, and one could hear the bones crunch and splinter 
under the hoofs, we tore at headlong speed, and 
dashing by the farthest houses we pulled up at the 
bank of the river. 

Before us rolled the Adda, perhaps two hundred 
yards wide here, spanned by the long, narrow bridge 
of wood that was the only passage. Across it the rem- 
nant of the Austrian rear-guard was still flying, pur- 
sued by the vicious bullets of our tirailleurs. On the 
opp(xsite bank rose houses, filled, as we were presently 
to learn, with sharpshooters, and beyond them, on 
the level plain that ran to the mountains, we could see 
the long white lines of Beaulieu’s infantry flanked by 
the glittering helmets and breastplates of the incom- 
parable Austrian cavalry. 

Even as we looked, the last of the fleeing footmen 
crossed the bridge and disappeared from view. Little 
jets and puffs of smoke spurted instantly from the win- 
dows of the houses on the eastern banks, and bullets be- 
gan to hum about us like angry bees. Then a lurid 
tongue of red darted out from a sulphurous smoke-cloud 
up the river to our left, followed by another and another 
as the fire ran along in front of us, and to our right the 
air was filled with howling shell and shrapnel-shot, and 
our ears rang with the crash of cannon. Twenty guns 
were in battery to vindicate the passage, and their 
cross-fire had opened u])on us. 

A shell burst among a group of our infantry at the 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 85 

head of the bridge and tore several men to fragments. 
A solid shot whizzed through the escort, leaving in its 
train the death-cry of a chasseur and the maddened 
scream of his lacerated charger. An aide-de-camp 
rolled dead from his saddle. Death was everywhere 
and our troops sought speedy cover behind the houses. 

That is, all save the staff and the escort. 

For General Bonaparte did not seem to heed the 
danger. Unmoved and emotionless amid the hail of 
iron and lead, the little man sat quietly in his saddle, 
with his great gray eyes scanning the opposite bank 
and his features, pallid as marble in their framing of 
long lank hair that fell to his coat collar. 

Beside him, a little to the rear, Berthier, smooth- 
shaven as a priest and dressed in the highest degree of 
military coquetry that was possible under the Republic, 
passed his hand nervously across his chin and reined 
back his horse to ask a question of the fierce Massena, 
whose rapacious black eyes glared out of his swarthy 
face with its vulture-like, Jewish features, as he men- 
tally summed up the cost we were likely to pay for that 
long trestle of planks and timbers. Colonel Lannes 
was there, as were also Dallemagne, Dupas and Cer- 
voni. 

Running my eyes over them all I judged the crisis to 
be grave, for nods and frowns were passing among 
them, with ever more and more dissenting shakes of 
the head. 

The General shouted an order to Berthier, and an 
aide-de-camp spurred madly back into the town. 
Presently, among the other noises, we heard the snap 
and cracking of whips, the clinking of chain, harness, 
and the grinding of wheels as artillery came thunder- 
ing down the street and out upon the bank, crushing 
the dead and dying in its progress. 

The guns swung round and the active cannoneers 
had them unlirnbered and in action in a twinkling. 
Say what one might of the rest of the army, our artil- 
lery was always good. Few seconds elapsed from the 
time when the leading piece shot out from the street 
upon the level stretch of open ground that bordered 
the river until our shells were speeding toward the 
houses on the other side and the choking volumes of 
smoke were drifting back into our ranks. 


86 THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 

That same smoke greatly interfered with my seeing 
for a time what was going forward. But at intervals 
it lifted, and as it blew past the lithe figures of the 
artillerymen were visible, working their guns with 
frantic energy. From the glimpses I caught of the 
staff I made out that a violent altercation was in prog- 
ress there. Berthier and Massena were talking to the 
Commander-in-chief, shaking their heads and gesticu- 
lating furiously. He seemed to listen undisturbed and 
his replies appeared to be delivered calmly enough. 
But once, in a sudden, curious lull in the tumult, his 
clear, penetrating voice I distinctly heard saying : 

“Arguments avail nothing, citizen-generals. That 
is the way to Milan — to Rome — to the possession of 
all Italy. We must cross the Adda, let it cost what it 
may.” 

Then the growl of the cannon filled my ears again 
and I could not hear what followed. 

Aide after aide was sent back into Lodi, and I 
guessed that preparations to carry the bridge must be 
in progress there. Two of our guns seemed to be 
poorly directed, for I saw General Bonaparte, after 
watching the effect of our fire through his glass, dis- 
mount and himself correct their pointing, lying flat 
along the trails like an old artilleryman as he aimed 
the pieces. When they were trained to his satisfac- 
tion he remounted and continued searching the 
eastern bank with his glass to his eye. 

The fire of tlie Austrians slackened by degrees, and 
then all of a sudden it stopped. Our guns continued 
to roar for some minutes longer. Finally the bugles 
blared the signal to cease firing. The wreaths of 
whirling smoke drifted away on the evening breeze. 
The last rays of the fast disappearing sun flashed back 
from our polished weapons, the tranquil river flowed 
noiselessly before us, and Peace seemed to have dis- 
placed the loud-voiced God of War. 

General Bonaparte wheeled his horse and walked the 
beast toward the escort. He pulled up a dozen feet in 
front of us and ran his eye along the line. His glance 
met mine, and this time I did not quail from it. For 
a few seconds we stared steadily at each other. He 
raised his hand and beckoned to me. I rode forward 
and lowered my saber in salute. 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


87 


“ Your name, chasseur P ” 

‘ ‘ Georges Luc, mo7i general, corporal in the regi- 
ment Damremont.” 

“Very well ; I know your features, I’ve seen you 
somewhere. Par Dieul my young trooper of the des- 
patches, is’t not so ? ” 

“True, mon general.” 

‘ ‘ I trust I have given you fighting enough since then. 
Citizen Luc ? ” 

“ Not much falls to the cavalry, citizen-general. 
The infantry get it all.” 

“ Let us hope for a change in the future. Do you 
feel as eager to risk your life now, chasseur^ as you did 
when I first saw you ? ” 

“More, citizen-general. Only give me the chance,” 
I said eagerly. He laughed and seemed well-pleased. 

Diantre! but I’ll indulge you, never fear. Ride 
yonder to the middle of the road that crosses the 
bridge, and take position there facing me. In the 
town, abreast of the first cross street, you’ll see an 
officer sitting on his horse. Keep your eyes on me, 
follow my movements wherever I go,, and when I wave 
my sword do you repeat the signal with your own 
weapon until the man in the town follows your ex- 
ample. Then ride back and rejoin me. Do you 
understand ? ” 

‘ ‘ Clearly, mon genial. ” 

“Away with you, then ! ” 

Gathering up my reins I saluted the General, wheeled 
Cassius about and trotted away to take my stand in 
the place he had indicated. 

A glance into the town showed me no living being 
upon the street save the officer of whom General 
Bonaparte had spoken and his horse. There he was, 
sure enough, a lean, muscular-appearing man in the 
garb of a colonel in the infantry, astride of a hand- 
some roan charger that stood opposite the mouth of 
the first cross street on the right of the road. He had 
evidently been expecting my appearance with impa- 
tience, for I saw a smile of satisfaction part his lips 
and he gave me a slight nod as a sign that he knew 
what I was there for. I returned the smile and then 
settled down in my saddle with my eyes fixed upon 
General Bonaparte. 


88 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


The young Corsican was riding slowly toward me 
along the bank, checking his horse every few feet and 
anxiously examining the farther side of the Adda. A 
few paces behind him followed the other generals and 
the staff, stopping when he stopped, advancing again 
when he put his steed in motion. To within fifty feet 
of the head of the bridge they came, and there at last 
Bonaparte halted as if inclined to wait for a while. 
He had drawn his sword, but it hung dangling from 
his wrist while he kept his field-glass raised and fixed 
upon the enemy. 

Frotn my position I could see every feature of his face, 
clear cut and cold as the lines of an ancient cameo. It 
was calm and impassive as Fate. Not a muscle quiv- 
ered in that stony countenance, no twitch of the mouth, 
no wrinkling of the brow, no flushing of the cheek, be- 
trayed the fact that he was in the position of a game- 
ster playing for a mighty stake. Had I not known 
otherwise I might have taken him for an ardent lover 
of Nature, pleased and content with the smiling Italian 
landscape that spread out before him. 

Far otherwise showed the faces of those who had 
reined up a few paces behind him. Though I watched 
the General closely, I occasionally cast a swift glance 
at the staff, and in their set mouths and scowling fore- 
heads I read that they felt doubt and apprehension of 
what was to come. Brave they all were, and gallant 
soldiers every one of them. But all, save Colonel 
Lannes and perhaps Massena, lacked that implicit trust 
in Fate and complete indifference to danger that was 
so marked in the character of our great leader. 

Indeed, the present moment meant far more to him 
than it did to them. Beyond that narrow bridge, 
though he knew it not, lay the glorious triumphs of 
Areola, of Marengo, of Austerlitz, Jena, Friedland 
and Wagram. The fickle goddess of Victory beckoned 
to him from behind the Austrian cannon, urging him 
forward to grasp the reins of a power greater than 
man ever had before or than man has ever had since. 

The critical moment in his life had come ! 

And, by all the oaths that ever soldier of France 
swore, I tell you that he did not fail to sustain the 
crisis. 

Moment after moment he sat there, quiet in his 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 89 

saddle, while the unquiet officers behind him moved 
uneasily in their seats and passed low mutterings of 
impatience among themselves. The General paid no 
attention to their whisperings and still continued to 
scan our waiting foemen. Only now his glass was 
directed mostly to their right flank and the country be- 
yond it. Again and again his gaze turned to that 
quarter, ever at shorter intervals. Once he lowered 
his hands with the field-glass in them, and I saw that 
his eyes were flaming out of his white face with a 
light that was different from their usual steady, for- 
bidding expression. His left leg, too, was drawn up 
somewhat along the flank of his horse, and the muscles 
of his calf shook noticeably beneath his leather boot. 
I plainly remarked this fact. All this I saw in a 
second, for in the next the General s glass was at his 
eye again and his hands covered his face. 

The moments flew by, and still General Bonaparte 
kept gazing earnestly up the river. Why was he wait- 
ing .? What did he expect from up stream ? 

The sun was almost set, and in a little while it would 
be too dark to fight. The Austrians were on their 
guard, and there was no hope that they would leave 
their lines to go and prepare their suppers until dark- 
ness had put an end to all likelihood of an assault. 
Why then did our chief delay giving the signal ? 

The notes of a bugle, then the far off rolling of 
drums floated across the river. Clearly some evolu- 
tion was in progress among the Austrians. At least so 
I read the sounds. 

As the thought passed through my head I saw Gen- 
eral Bonaparte lower his glass, twitch the hilt of his 
sword into his hand and wave the blade in the air. On 
the instant I imitated his motion and saw that the 
horseman who waited in the street beyond me was fol- 
lowing my example. 

Suddenly the wild, high rattle of the drums beating 
the pas de charge rose in the depths of the cross-street 
I have mentioned, accompanied by hoarse-voiced 
shouts of command that seemed to run along a column 
of considerable length. 

A few bounds of my steed carried me to the Gen- 
eral’s side, where I saluted, expecting further orders. 
But he did not look at me. His eyes were fixed 


90 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


on the spot I had just vacated. Mine traveled 
thither also, but on the way they dwelt for a second 
on the Austrian right flank, the ground so earnestly 
watched by General Bonaparte. Clouds of dust were 
rising beyond the enemy’s line, and squadrons ot 
cavalry w-ere coming into view. 

I learned afterward that General Beaumont, with 
the whole of our horse, had been sent to cross by a ford 
three miles above the town, to flank Beaulieu. It was 
for his appearance that the Commander-in-chief had 
kept the assault delayed. 

The rattling drums came nearer and nearer. The 
tramp of thousands of feet echoed behind them, and 
then with the swift rush and impetus of a mountain 
torrent a column of grenadiers burst from the town. 
Another instant and they were on the bridge. 

The tricolor waved defiantly above the rushing 
column, the bayonets sparkled like fire below it, and 
under them the dark mass undulated like the body of 
some huge, monstrous serpent. Out upon the deserted 
planks they rushed. The General and the staff waved 
their hats as they went by. In return the air seemed 
rent by the hoarse, maddening cheer: “ Vive la Re- 
puhlique ! ” 

Swiftly the rush of the column swept out upon the 
bridge. 

The eastern bank, so silent and harmless for the 
last half hour, awakened now, and found tongue in 
a roar that carried with it death. A sheet of flame 
flashed along its edge, and a volcanic burst of smoke 
belched forth and veiled the houses. 

A second later, and the bridge became a hell. The 
leading files plunged forward dead upon the planks, or, 
pierced and mangled by the pitiless bullets, rolled one 
above the other, struggling and screaming in their ter- 
rible agony. Over their writhing forms those behind 
dashed, only to fall themselves a few steps further on, 
and to die under the trampling feet of the crowding 
hundreds that eagerly offered themselves to feed the 
cannon. On, on, on the dark tide of the column flowed, 
the officers holding their shakos on the points of their 
swords and shouting with their last breaths to their un- 
flinching followers the order to advance. Like a mass 
of water that bursts from the wall of a broken dam it 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


91 

surged sullenly forward, the rent and riddled tricolor 
staggering and swaying above the tossing foam of 
plumes and bayonets, pitching, nodding, lurching to- 
ward the planks at times, but never quite allowed to 
fall ; for again and again strong hands snatched it 
from the dying grasp of those that were about to relin- 
quish it and bore it onward toward the death-dealing- 
guns. 

With set teeth and leaping hearts we watched the 
progress of the grenadiers. Out there upon those blood- 
drenched timbers men were dropping in scores before 
our eyes, and the heaps of maimed and slaughtered 
heroes rose level with the side-rails of the bridge. Still 
on those gaunt and ragged children of the Republic 
pressed, ever flinging her name full in the teeth of 
Eternity with their defiant cheers. 

P'orward still, though the head of the column was 
swept away with every second. The first momentum 
of the charge was becoming spent, and an invisible 
power seemed to be holding back the front and push- 
ing against its progress. Yet the grenadiers went on, 
though their pace was slower and slower, and won 
their way to the center of the passage. 

There the column stopped, shivered, hesitated ! 

With outstretched neck and set features General 
Bonaparte had witnessed the awful progress of the 
grenadiers. His right hand he had reached for- 
ward upon his horse’s neck, the small white fingers 
clutching the thick hair of the beast s mane. As he 
saw the halting of the charge his action was decisive 
and unhesitating. Promptly he flung himself from the 
saddle and rushed among the reeling ranks, calling 
fiercely to the men to make way. 

I was off Cassius’s back in the flash of a pistol, and 
saber in hand I followed the general. The soldiers 
opened before us, and over the bleeding limbs and pal- 
pitating bodies that covered the planks, we ran ; the 
other generals and the staff-officers close at our backs. 
We reached the spot where the hail of lead was tearing 
to rags the flag of France. The hand of Bonaparte 
caught the standard and waved it high above his head. 

“ men of the Army of Italy!'' he thundered. 

Follow your General!" 

Vive Bo7iaparte ! Vive la Rkpuhlique!" pealed 


92 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


from the ranks in wild response to his words, and 
again the men rushed forward. 

Over the bridge we charged, Bonaparte, Massena, 
and Berthier in the lead ! 

As we won to the farther end a horseman flashed by 
us, prodding the flanks of his maddened charger at 
every leap with his gory spurs and whirling a long, 
flashing blade in the air. Into the Austrian ranks that 
suddenly showed before us he forced his way, sending 
two of them to their last account with as many sweeps 
of his terrible saber, and hurling himself upon their 
color-bearer he wrenched the Imperial flag away from 
him. 

The next instant a Kaiserlick’s bayonet stabbed his 
steed, and the gallant beast fell with his rider. A score 
of weapons flashed above him, but the man was on his 
feet before they fell. With the leap of a tiger he sprang 
up behind a mounted Austrian officer, thrust him though 
the body and hurled him from his saddle. Urging the 
captured horse the while he cut furiously to the right and 
left, he laid three more of the enemy dead. And then we 
sprang upon the Austrians and he was safe. The gun- 
ners we bayonetted beside their cannon, and their sup- 
porting infantry we scattered in a few moments. The 
mad cavalier cast the captured banner at Bonaparte’s 
feet crying : 

‘ ‘ Vive la Rkpuhlique ! ” 


CHAPTER XII. 

THE priest’s sister. 

It was Colonel Lannes. 

“Ever the first to strike the enemy, eh? brave 
Lannes ! ” the General shouted, smiling proudly at the 
hero, while, unconsciously, I suppose, he set his foot 
upon the folds of silk that lay on the ground before him. 
Then, glancing around, his eye lell upon me, and he 
demanded sharply, 

“ Hola ! chasseur, what are you doing here ? Where 
are your comrades ? It cannot be that you are the only 
one of my escort left alive ? ” 

“You ordered me to return to you, mon genhal, and 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


93 


as you did not send me back to the ranks I supposed 
you might have further use for me. So I followed you 
when you ran to seize the flag." 

“And devilish close he kept to you, let me tell you. 
General Bonaj)arte, ” Colonel Lannes broke in abruptly, 
“ I marked that green jacket among the blue coats as I 
went by you, and par Dieii! yon boy was in front of 
IMassena, and that’s something few in the army can 
boast. If you ever want a friend, citizen chasseur, re- 
member that I saw you cross the Adda, and come to 
me. ril not fail you." 

“I will keep you in mind also. Corporal Luc," Bona- 
parte said. “ You may resume your place in the ranks." 

While we had halted at the Austrian guns, the infan- 
try had kept streaming past and had cleared the houses, 
deploying as they emerged into the plain. Already 
the clatter of their musketry was rising as they met the 
whirling rush of a charge of the Imperial cavalry with 
a storm of lead, and beat back the avenging horsemen 
without even forming a square. 

The escort, unable to join us until the grenadiers 
had passed the bridge, now came galloping up. They 
brought with them tlie chargers of the generals and the 
staff, and Poignet dAcier rode up to me and thrust the 
bridle of Cassius into my hand. 

“ Tonnerre de del !” he said, with a beaming face. 

' ‘ Did the general notice that thou wast by his side all the 
while } ” 

I nodded. 

“Then thou’lt have a commission to-morrow. A 
captaincy were a small recompense for thy gallantry." 

“Wait until I get it, Poignet d’Acier, and don’t talk 
nonsense," I laughed. And then we galloped after the 
general, who was spurring toward the line-of-battle. 

The Austrians quickly recovered from their amaze- 
ment at the astounding feat of arms we had performed 
in carrying the bridge. Beaulieu had twelve thousand 
infantry and four thousand cavalry drawn up in the 
plain beyond the Adda, and he tried his best to crush 
the grenadiers before the rest of the army could cross 
to our assistance. But how vain were all the efforts of 
the veteran soldiers of Austria ! 

Meanwhile, as fast as they could be hurried over, 
regiment after regiment came to the relief of our out- 


94 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


numbered force. Eager to emulate their comrades of 
the grenadiers, they fought like unchained demons. 
Our flanking cavalry, too, became more and more 
troublesome to Beaulieu, and at last he gave it up and 
drew back his army, leaving two thousand of them 
dead upon the field. 

The army bivouacked for the night upon the Adda, 
while the enemy continued their retreat, falling back 
to find ultimate refuge in the Tyrol. Lombardy lay 
open to us, Angereau marched to Pavia, while the 
soldiers of the Laharpe and Serrurier divisions occupied 
Cremona and Cassano. 

On the 26th of Floreal, General Bonaparte entered 
Milan. The inhabitants of that city were well-disposed 
to welcome the troops of the Republic. They hoped 
that the coming of the French would bring liberty to 
them, and they gave the conqueror an enthusiastic 
reception. 

A forced levy of twenty millions for the army-chest 
rather cooled their revolutionary ardor. Yet, on the 
whole, they liked our rule better than that of the Aus- 
trians. 

The general only stayed at the capital to gather the 
supplies and money needful to carry on the campaign, 
for he wished to give the Austrians no time to breathe. 
From the Duke of Modena he wrung ten millions more, 
as the price of leaving the duchy undisturbed. Thus 
did the little Corsican contrive to fill the bellies and 
cover the backs of his men as no other general of the 
Republic had done before. 

Two thousand Austrians still held the citadel of 
Milan. But Massena kept up a blockade, and they did 
not. fire on the town as it was the property of their 
emperor. So we had a quiet time in our comfortable 
quarters and enjoyed the pleasures the city afforded to 
our hearts’ content. 

On the 2d day of Prairial (May 22d) I was summoned 
early in the morning to the quarters of Colonel Billot. 
That officer, handing me a bulky sealed envelope, 
spoke as follows : 

“Corporal Luc, as you have the best horse in the 
regiment, I have chosen you to carry these despatches. 
You will set out at once for Pavia, where you ought to 
arrive by evening, and will deliver them to the officer 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


95 


who commands there. To-morrow you will rejoin the 
regiment. Not at Milan, however, but at Lodi, for 
which place we march to-day. By sharp riding you 
will be able to reach there about the same time." 

A week of rest and abundant food had done wonders 
for Cassius and he was in fine fettle for the road. 
Though the weather was beginning to be somewhat 
warm it was not unpleasantly hot, and I thoroughly 
enjoyed my long ride. I reached Pavia in the after- 
noon, delivered my despatches, and thinking to make 
some miles on my way to Lodi before dark I set out 
after the refreshment of myself and my horse had been 
attended to. 

The sun was low as I rode into the village of Binasco, 
and there I determined to pass the night. 

Approaching the yard of the principal inn I saw that 
a crowd of Italian peasants were gathered there, evi- 
dently engaged in watching some diverting entertain- 
ment. Pushing my steed in among them I found, to 
my surprise and gratification, that my old acquaintance 
Tric-trac, and his ape, Agricola, were providing amuse- 
ment for the assemblage. 

Hola ! Tric-trac, how goes the world with you ?" 
I called out. “ Where have you been this long time, 
comrade.? I have not set eyes on you since the night 
before the battle of Montenotte." 

“By all that’s wonderful!" cordially replied the 
mountebank, ceasing his employment of drilling Agri- 
cola, “ ’t is my little friend citizen Sans-barbe. Cam- 
paigning seems to agree with you, my boy, I see that 
you’ve managed not to run against a bullet. What 
brings you here.? Your regiment is at Milan, or it was 
there yesterday, I am sure." 

“ Duty, friend Tric-trac, that’s all. I’m on my way 
back to the regiment now. But, to return your ques- 
tion, what are you and Agricola doing at Binasco .? " 

“ Earning our bread, my boy. General Bonaparte 
has not as yet sent me my share of the late contribu- 
tions," he said, winking facetiously, “so Agricola 
and I are hunting for coins as usual." 

“ As I intend to stop here for the night, we’ll have a 
bottle and sup together after you’re through," I began. 

But Tric-trac interrupted. “It gives me grief to 
refuse, but I must be on the road again presently. 


90 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


Agricola and I have a pressing- engagement for this 
evening, and let me give you a bit of friendly advice, 
citizen Sans-barbe,” he added, coming close to the 
flank of Cassius and lowering his voice. “ If you are 
bound to stop in Binasco, don’t put up at the inn. 
I'hese peasants are no friends to our soldiers. Better 
ride up the street to the priest’s house. There you’ll 
fare like a king, and besides you’ll be safer” 

“ Safer from what.-^ ” I demanded curiously. 

“Never ask a question, but do as I say. Good-by 
now, or rather au revoir, for we’ll meet again. Atteiitioji, 
Agricola. For tez-arnies !” ?iW<\ Tric-trac turned once 
more to his ape and his audience. 

I thought I might as well pay heed to what he 
advised. If the priest took me in I w^ould undoubtedly 
get a better supper and a more comfortable bed than I 
could find in the inn. So I trotted away and was 
speedily directed by an old man, who was lounging in 
one of the open dooways that were frequent along the 
street, to the residence of him who watched over the 
spiritual welfare of the people of Binasco. 

Indeed, I could have picked out the priest’s house 
unaided, for it was the best-appearing one in the town, 
and moreover, the ecclesiastic himself was just dis- 
mounting from the back of an aged gray pony in front 
of the door. 

I found the good father’s outside much to my taste. 
He was a fat, jolly-looking little Italian, with red, 
rounded cheeks and roguish black eyes under his great 
shovel-hat. A well-developed paunch made his black 
churchman’s cassock strain at the buttonholes, and I 
judged that this was no anchorite upon whom I had 
happened. 

When I asked him if he would be pleased to afford 
me food and shelter for the night he answered promptly 
in a jovial voice : 

“Assuredly, sig?ior, the weary and hungry are ever 
welcome beneath my roof. You may stable your horse 
here too, for I have quarters for my good little Chrys- 
ostom,” patting the flanks of his pony, “in the yard 
behind the house. Wait for a moment while I call my 

sister, and I will show you where to bestow him. 

Teresa ! ” 

A woman appeared in the doorway, flashing a pair 


THQ GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


97 

of great black eyes at me and showing a set of beauti- 
ful teeth as she smiled at the good father. She was no 
longer very young, probably between twenty-eight and 
thirty I should say, but she was undeniably handsome, 
with the fervid, voluptuous beauty of the women of 
the South. She perhaps showed too much the effects 
of the good feeding that I had mentally ascribed to the 
house on viewing its owner, and was a little, a very 
little, too fat. But with her lustrous eyes and midnight 
hair, her well-cut nose and scarlet, full-lipped mouth, 
her shapely shoulders and spreading hips, — s<7y);7s/// I 
say again that she was a woman worth looking at. 
For the moment I wished for a mustache, even a red 
one like Pierre Santron’s. 

“This is my sister Teresa, signor. She is a widov/ 
and keeps my house for me. Theresa the cavallero wijl 
stay with us to-night. Let us have a supper that he will 
relish. Now, signor, we will put up the beasts." 

Teresa smiled and flashed another wicked glance at 
me as I led Cassius and followed her brother. While 
I cared for the wants of the troop-horse you may be 
sure that I thought of those eyes. Diahle ! but I — 
never mind what I thought ! 

At last our task was done and Cassius and the pony 
made comfortable. Into the house we went, the priest 
leading me into a large room on the left of the door. 
The place was very comfortable, almost richly fur- 
nished, I might say. But I took little note of the apart- 
ment just then. A man was standing by one of the 
two windows. Supposing him to be some peasant in 
search of ghostly counsel I would have retired. 

But at our entrance he turned, showing Ais face, 
and with a furious oath I grasped my saber. For I 
recognized the never-to-be-forgotten features of land- 
lord Giacomo. 

7 


■9S 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


CHAPTER XIII. 

“madonna ! MUST I SEE YOU DIE !” 

In one bound I covered the space between us, and 
the point of my ready blade quivered at the landlord’s 
throat. 

“ In the name of the Republic,” I cried, as I placed 
my left hand on his shoulder, “ I arrest you. Stir a 
hand and I run you throuc^h. Master Giacomo ! ” 

The old villain seemed not in the least disturbed by 
my action. He met my gaze with a calm and gentle 
eye, and his voice as he spoke was smooth and un- 
ruffled. 

“ You have made a mistake, sig ?io r so\d\er” he said. 
“My name is not Giacomo and 1 am not he for whom 
you take me. I am called Lanciotto, a poor vender 
of wines in the city of Pavia.” 

“ I’m well acquainted with the vintage you deal in,” 
I sneered, “ I’ve tried it. A trifle too highly spiced to 
sit well on the average stomach, eh } Bah ! don’t 
think to deceive me with your Lanciotto, old friend. 
I’ve wished for this meeting too ardently to mistake 
you. You are coming with me, do you hear? You 
will probably live a few hours longer, if you come 
quietly.” 

“And where do you propose to take me, young 
signor P'’ he demanded in the same unconcerned 
man ner. 

“Back to Pavia,” I answered with decision. “If 
you sleep at all to-night you’ll close your eyes in a 
French guard-room.” 

“ I had intended to pass the night with the good 
Father Giulio,” he observed. “Still, since Pavia is my 
home I may as well go thither now as to-morrow 
morning. Yon will be the only person inconvenienced 
if you will go back with me, signor. For I warn you 
that I am known to your officers, and will be given my 
liberty at once.” 

“For your sake I’m willing to put up with some 
fatigue, Giacomo,”! smiled, tightening my grip on his 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


99 


shoulder. “Will you pardon my leaving you thus 
abruptly, good father ? ” I added, addressing the priest, 
but never letting my eyes wander from the landlord's 
face. 

The little churchman had been too astonished to 
speak. But now he managed to find his tongue and 
shouted out a rush of voluble remonstrances. 

“In the name of the Madonna! my son, how can 
you have the heart to act thus ? To draw your sword 
upon the worthy Master Lanciotto and threaten him 
with death 1 To tell him that he does not know his 
own name I and to say that he shall spend the night 
in a guard-room I and to think of going back to Pavia 
when Teresa is to cook your supper ! And all because 
Master Lanciotto so closely resembles his twin brother 
Giacomo, who lives many, many miles away from 
Binasco at an inn he keeps in the mountains." 

“Why did you not keep silent on that point, Father 
Giulio ? " my prisoner said reproachfully. “ Why not 
let the foolish boy take me to Pavia, and find out his 
own mistake ? The laughter of his comrades might be a 
lesson for him and teach him to act more circumspect- 
ly in future. He is hasty, you can see, even for a 
youth of his years. Unless he learn caution, 'tis like 
enough he wont live very long. ” 

“If he doesn’t expire before he hands you over to 
the guard at Pavia he'll die content, Giacomo,” I said 
with a sneer. “So come along. I hope you haA''e a 
horse here ? If not I intend to requisition your pony, 
good father.” 

“ Requisition Chrysostom 1 The Saints forbid ! ” the 
priest exclaimed. “Surely, son, you cannot persist in 
your purpose when I, the Father Giulio, tell you that 
you are acting under a false impression ! ” 

“ False or true I take him a prisoner to Pavia," I de- 
clared curtly. “If this man has no horse he rides 
your pony. And the word is ‘boots and saddles.’ ” 
“Nay, nay, good son, be not so obstinate,” en- 
treated the Father Guilio. “ Can you not take my 
word that what he says is true .? I swear to you that I 
have known him for years, and his brother also. They 
are twin sons of Stefanone, the wine-grower, and they 
are so like each other that one can scarce tell them 
apart. Ask any one of the country here and he will 


100 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


tell you the same thing. If you cannot place faith in 
what I tell you, ask Teresa. A capital idea that ! 
Ho ! Teresa ! Teresa ! " 

“ I will not be beguiled from doing my duty, Father 
Giulio,” 1 began. But at that moment, in answer to 
her brother’s calls, Teresa appeared in the door- 
way. 

She gave a little cry of surprise as she saw my naked 
saber, and coming swiftly forward demanded: “What 
is this, my brother? What means this appearance of 
violence ? Surely our guests have not quarreled ? ” 

“Nay, no quarrel at all, my sister," the priest man- 
aged to answer before I could say a word. “Our 
gallant young soldier has mistaken the good Master 
Lanciotto for his brother Giacomo, with whom, it 
seems, he has some feud. Therefore, he insists that 
our neighbor is his prisoner, and orders him to pre- 
pare to set out for Pavia in his company." 

Teresa looked blankly from her brother to me. 

“Mistaken Master Lanciotto for his brother Gia- 
como ! " she repeated, then suddenly cried : “ Pleavens ! 
signor^ what a dreadful mistake ! " 

“Aye, dreadful, indeed!" Father Giulio supple- 
mented eagerly. “And worst of all the military signor 
will not be convinced that he is at fault. Speak to 
him, my sister, and let your words add weight to 
what I have sworn. 

“Truly it is as my brother says, signor/' the lady 
affirmed, fixing me with her great black eyes. “ I 
know the Master Lanciotto well, for he comes often 
to drink a glass of wine or to take a meal with us. It is 
he whom you have in your power, and no other. I have 
seen his brother, the innkeeper, and I do not wonder 
at your error. But you are wrong, believe me." 

Had the priest of Binasco been unsupported in his 
assertions as to rhy prisoner’s identity Cassius would 
have made the journey to Pavia once more that day. 
But Teresa’s manner was so earnest and her eyes 
seemed so full of truth, that as a gentleman and a 
Frenchman there was but one course for me to follow. 

I dropped my hand from the old man’s shoulder, 
stepped back and slowly returned my saber to its scab- 
bard. 

“The word of my beautiful hostess suffices," I said, 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


lOI 


with the best grace in my power, “and I acknowledge 
that I have been at fault. To you I shall offer no 
apologies, Master Lanciotto, for you can readily un- 
derstand how one who has met your brother might think 
you Giacomo. I renounce my intention of arresting 
you and beg you to consider yourself at liberty.’’ 

Lanciotto smiled sarcastically. 

“I thank you most humbly for your change of de- 
termination, or soldier,” he voiced. “ I am little 
inclined for a ride just now and much prefer the cook- 
ery of her whom you call your "beautiful hostess’ to a 
supperless journey. As you say, my likeness to my 
brother often causes me uncomfortable moments. You 
seem especially anxious to meet him. I trust he has 
done nothing to bring him into disfavor with your 
soldiers ” 

“Disfavor! Far from it,” I returned jovially. “He 
has too hospitable a heart, Giacomo, to ever fall into 
the bad graces of men of the sword. To confess the 
truth. Master Lanciotto, what passed just now was 
done on my part by way of a jest. A squad from my 
regiment happened to stop with your brother over 
night, and you may be sure that they met with royal 
entertainment. Before we left, Giacomo chanced to 
remark upon my youth and apparent want of strength. 
And I told him that if ever I met him away from his 
mountain home he should see that I was fully able to 
take care of myself. That is why I pretended to arrest 
him just now.” 

Though I spoke with affected carelessness, I never- 
theless closely watched Master Lanciotto's counte- 
nance, hoping to detect some change of feature that 
would betray a knowledge of the hidden meaning in 
my words. There was none, so far as I could see. 
The wine-merchant heard me with polite interest, and 
when I had finished remarked : 

“ That is just like Giacomo. He has a weakness for 
the soldiers, and always gives them the best his house 
contains. And he forgets that he grows old, too old to 
engage in foolish wagers. With a stout lad like your- 
self he would have little chance. Did your comrades 
remain long at my brother’s house.? ” 

The words were frankly uttered, but it seemed to me 
that they contained sneers at my own slight frame and 


102 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


the mournful fate of the luckless Roussel and his men. 

1 darted a glance of fire at Lanciotto. His face was 
innocence itself. 

‘ ‘ They stayed so long that the rest of the regiment are 
wild to be guests of Giacomo, Master Lanciotto,” I 
answered in a voice that trembled somewhat in spite 
of my efforts to control it. “To visit his dwelling is 
the most ardent hope of many a chasseur-a-cheval of 
Damremont.” 

“May they find a fitting welcome awaiting them,” 
he rejoined, "turning away from me to converse with 
the Father Giulio. 

Teresa left the room to resume her interrupted duties 
in the kitchen, whither I would gladly have followed 
her had not the priest noticed my movement toward 
the door and frankly requested me to remain. 

“Master Lanciotto and I have no private matters to 
discuss, signor y' he said, “ and we will be glad to have 
your company in our conversation. Teresa, too, will 
do better at preparing a meal, without that braided 
jacket of yours to distract her attention. The women 
all go daft over a uniform, you know, and I am sure 
she would never give the dishes proper seasoning 
with one so near her.” 

Of course I had no choice but to stay, so I settled 
back into a chair. I listened idly while the two Italians 
gossiped about the affairs of the neighborhood. 

Thus the time passed until Teresa announced that 
our supper awaited us. An excellent meal it was, and 
excellent appetites did we bring to it. Though I could 
see that Father Giulio did not relish my doing so, and 
that Master Lanciotto looked a shade grave over what 
I said, I was lavish in my praises of the widow’s 
cookery. 

No woman ever found flattery distasteful. There^ 
fore Teresa devoted herself to caring for my wants, 
pressing dish after dish upon me and keeping my glass 
full, which was no light task, as I remember. 

Our appetites satisfied we returned to the large front 
room, where Master Lanciotti and I were begged by 
the priest to have no scruples about indulging our 
desire for tobacco. A bottle of wine choicer than the 
vintage we had imbibed at our supper was produced, 
and we settled down for a comfortable evening. 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


103 

Tired by my long ride, I was well content to leave 
the conversation to my host and Lanciotto. There- 
fore I smoked silently and listened to them, occasion- 
ally taking a sip from the goblet that stood within easy 
reach of my hand on a small table. 

Teresa came in with some sewing, and sat down 
near me, evidently ready for more compliments. She 
got them to her hearts content. Mentally, I sent 
the wine-merchant and Father Giulio to the devil, de- 
voting myself wholly to the latter’s handsome sister. 

I suppose evenings at that house were as a rule dull 
and long for her, for she kept up a constant chatter and 
started guiltily when the priest at last remarked rather 
sharply, 

“The usual hour for your retiring has arrived, sister 
Teresa.” 

“ My sister has not been very well of late, and I in- 
sist upon her keeping regular hours,” he observed, 
when the lady had left us. “ Tm very fond of Teresa, 
and I would not for the world that she should be ill.” 

Perhaps half an hour longer I remained, smoking 
and nodding iivmy chair. Finally, weary ofthe society 
of my Italian friends, I desired to be shown my resting- 
place for the night. 

Father Giulio lighted a candle, led me to the foot of 
a wide pair of stairs that ascended from the hall, and, 
pointing upward, said : 

“Your door is at the top on the landing, signor, 
directly to your left. Good night, and may you rest 
well.” 

With that he gave the candle into my hand and re- 
turned to Lanciotto, while I slowly ascended the steps, 
and pushing open the door he had indicated, sauntered 
drowsily into the chamber. 

But on the instant every vestige of gathering somno- 
lence fled from my brain, for as I held my candle high 
to take a view of the apartment, its rays fell upon the 
figure of a woman standing directly before me, one 
hand raised in sign of caution, the forefinger of the 
other pressed earnestly upon her lips. 

Amazed and doubting, I glared at her, scarce able to 
credit my senses. For, with a face white as death 
and her great eyes afire with a gleam that was half of 
fright, half of determination, the form of the coniessa 


104 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


Aliandra had risen from the shadows of this room in 
the house of the priest of Binasco ! 

A thin wrapper of dark-colored silk, hastily thrown 
on, had fallen away from her neck and bosom, dis- 
playing their incomparable outlines and betraying the 
fact that beneath this robe she wore no other covering 
than her night-gear. 

Soldiers of France learned early to keep their wits 
about them in those days. Calmly I closed the door, 
placed my candle on a little stand near the bed, then 
stepped to the lady’s side. 

“ You ! ” I gasped. 

“Yes.” ’Twas scarce a flutter of those lovely lips. 

“What is it.?” I whispered. 

“Speak low, and do as I bid you without question.” 
she answered in a voice that I could barely catch. 
“Ah! I knew that I could not be mistaken, that it 
must h^you. Teresa’s description, as she assisted in my 
night toilet, made me fear. She said you recognized 
Giacomo 1 ” 

“Aha!” 

Then I recognized your voice in the room be- 
low. So I crept here, because I would not have you 
die. ” 

“Die, contessa, who talks of dying.? ” I demanded. 

“There are those below who even now talk of kill- 
ing , she said with an earnestness that drove convic- 
tion to my heart. “As soon as they think you asleep 
they will act. If they find you here, Monsieur Luc — ” 
She paused. 

“ If they find me, contessa r” I repeated. 

“Then — they — will — cut — your — throat.” She 
brought out the words with a distinct interval between 
each one of them. “Oh, why did you come. Monsieur 
Luc, jvow of all men.” 

“Never take it to heart, mademoiselle,'’ I interposed 
consolingly. “You exaggerate my situation. Believe 
me, I should be a poor soldier of the Army of Italy 
were I not able to take care of two wretched Italians.” 

The girl’s eyes flamed with anger, and she threw her 
head haughtily back. 

“You may learn— aye, and that shortly, too, mo?i- 
sieur, that Italians are not to be despised. To your 
consternation, you and the rest of our oppressors may 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


105 


find — but I will not stoop to answer your taunt. Your 
life hangs on every second, and I am here to save 
you. Come ! ” 

She moved across the floor without noise, and in the 
action I saw that her little bare feet glistened white as 
snow. Quietly she unlatched the casement of the 
window. 

“Your path lies there,” she whispered hurriedly. 
“ Fly, and fly quickly. Your life depends upon it. 
In the dark you must contrive to saddle your horse 
and—” 

She caught her breath and ceased speaking, standing 
with her head lowered, as if she were listening intently 
to some sound from without. 

I heard the thump of horses’ feet come galloping up 
the road and stop before the house. An imperious, 
impatient voice called so distinctly that every word 
fell clear upon my ears : 

“Ho! Giulio, hasten at once to take my beast. 
Has Giacomo yet arrived ? ” 

The coiiiessa wrung her hands with a gesture of 
despair. 

“It is too late I ” she gasped, turning to me a face 
drawn and gray with fear. ''He has come. There 
are others with him, and now you cannot escape ! 
Madonna 1 ” raising her eyes to Heaven in pitiful ap- 
peal, “ must I see 7nurdered 

“That you shall not, mademoiselle'’ I said in tones 
of quiet confidence. “The arrival of Count Luca (for 
I remembered the voice well) has not lessened my cer- 
tainty of victory. I have my pistols and my saber. 
Watch, and you shall see that I know how to use 
them.” 

“No, no, it must not be,” the girl murmured with 
trembling lips. “d'here is that you know not of, and 
resistance is out of the question. You must not fight, 
you cannot fly. And yet I will save you in spite of 
them. Where can I hide you— where.? ” 

“ Perhaps if I made a bold rush for the door, made- 
moiselle” I suggested. 

You would never get down the stairs alive. Hear 
them I The lower floor is full of men. Let me think. 
Ah I ” she caught her breath. Her cheeks, her neck and 
the bosom that were so white one moment since now 


I06 THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 

flamed a vivid crimson. Her lips set firmly, and she 
fixed her eyes intently upon my own. 

“There is but one chance,” she whispered slowly. 
“There is but one place they know you cannot be.” 

“ And where is that t ” I asked. 

“ My — my chamber.” 

“Pardon me! My life shall not be saved by your 
blushes, ??iademoiselle.'’ I kissed her hand, drew my 
sword, and stepped to the door. 

“ It shall 1 You saved more than life to me. That 
you decline is proof that I can trust you ! For my 
sake come ! ” Her little hand was on my arm entreat- 
ing-ly. Her eyes had in them a piteous .appeal. “ Ma- 
donna I Must I see you die.? No, no, have pity on 
me, if not upon yourself — come I ” 

I am at mademoiselle s command t'' 


CHAPTER XIV. 

“your horse carries the fate of the army of ITALY I ” 

“ Pull off your boots and drop them down on the 
floor so as to make a noise,” she spoke rapidly, even as 
I bowed before her. “Then pick them up and carry 
them in your right hand, you will need the left to hold 
your saber so that it shall not clank. Make haste.” 

As I followed her instructions, Aliandra glided to the 
window again and threw the casement half-open. 

“They will think you went that way,” she breathed 
in my ear when she returned. “Now, follow me.” 

Without noise she blew out my candle, and opened 
the door. In an instant we were in the hall and the 
contessa carefully closed the door behind us. 

Silently as spirits we passed along the hallway and 
entered a room at the farther end. The dim light of a 
small lamp showed me that this was unquestionably 
the bedchamber of Aliandra. She locked the door and 
slipped a great bolt into its place. Then she turned to 
me as I stood eying her in silence. 

“ Take a seat in yonder chair, monsieur,'" she ordered, 
pointing to one that stood nearly at the farther end of 
the room. “ You will have some time to wait here 


THE GIFT OF BONAFARTE 


107 


and you must be content to keep silence. Besides 
there is nothing that vve can have to say to each 
other.” 

She seated herself upon a distant couch when she 
finished speaking, and drew her wrapper more closely 
about her shoulders. But a thousand emotions, con- 
jured up by her spiritual beauty, her divine grace, drew 
me to her. 

“We have more to talk of, mademoiselle ” I mur- 
mured, my voice suppressed but tender with passion. 
“You cannot have forgotten my words to you when 
we parted. Then I told you of my love, to which now 
you add a mighty gratitude.” 

The girl rose to her feet, her countenance was 
haughty, even scornful. 

“But, coiitessa” 1 repeated, “you :annot have for- 
gotten — ” 

“ Hush ! ” she broke in, while her features expressed 
pain and determination also. “ You are making me 
remember what you are. Ungenerous one, can you not 
appreciate what I have done for you Cannot the sol- 
dier of France raise his thoughts above the dull ideas 
of the peasant? But have a care, monsieur, one cry 
of mine, and your life would pay the forfeit of your 
temerity. Therefore be warned.” 

What she said made my heart ache, for I had not 
dreamed of insult to her. 

“You have recalled me to myself, madef?ioiselle” 1 
whispered earnestly, “you have made me feel that the 
rough sans-culotte has no place here. The Deity whom 
you worship reward you for your goodness to me ! I 
had hoped that some day I might be able to prove my 
gratitude. That, perchance. Fate may now not grant. 
Madonna have you in her keeping ! I will not fur- 
ther incommode you.” My hand was rapidly unbar- 
ring the door. 

“But you would go to your death?” This, with a 
muffled cry. 

“Better that than to remain and endure your dis- 
pleasure,” I muttered, and I meant my words. “ Open, 
mademoiselle, and if you care to look on you shall see 
how a peasant can quit this world.” 

“ Do you really feel gratitude for what I have done ? ” 
she demanded. 


Io8 THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 

“I never lie, mademoiselle. Some Republicans have 
at least that virtue,” I said proudly. 

“ Then prove your sincerity by doing what I wish,” 
she retorted. “ Yonder is the chair. By occupying it 
let me know that you speak truth.” 

I bowed my head, walked from her and seated my- 
self in silence, while the conlessa with a low sigh 
sank into another chair, her lovely face covered by her 
hand. So we counted the moments. 

The house was silent now, and no sound arose to 
break the monotonous quiet of the night. Perhaps 
ten minutes dragged by — it seemed an hour. A sud- 
den yell of rage and wonder, coming from the room 
where the Italians deemed I slept, brought me to my 
feet. 

We held our breath and waited. 

Carefully enough, I suppose, the miscreants must 
have stolen to my chamber, but now they made no 
pretense of caution. Eagerly they rushed about the 
house, searching room after room, their furious oaths 
proclaiming their lack of success. We heard one of 
them go down the stairs in great bounds, and the outer 
door slammed to with a crash. 

Two of them presently came along the hall, and 
paused before our door. 

“He can't be there, illustrissimo,” the tones of 
Father Giulio feebly objected. 

“You fool, don't I know that ^ ” replied the enraged 
voice of Count Luca. 

‘ ‘ But how about your sister ? The fair Teresa looked 
lovingly on him ! ” came to me in the smooth tones of 
the wily Giacomo. 

“Holy Virgin!” cried the priest. “You impugn 
my sister's honor. You don’t think he can be — ? ” 

But a thundering kick on a near-by door drowned his 
voice. “Open, girl 1” cried the innkeeper. 

The next instant I heard the door give way, then 
Teresa’s cries, and an exclamation of horror from the 
priest, mingled with a shrill masculine voice imploring 
mercy, and screaming: “Spare my life — I promise 
marriage, gentlemen.” 

Over this came Count Luca’s jeer : “ Diavolo ! This 
is no French cavalryman ; 'tis Ludovico, the apothe- 
cary s assistant ! ” Likewise a guffaw of hideous merri-. 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE IO9 

ment from Giacomo, as he kicked the unfortunate 
Lothario along the hall and down the stairs. 

I glanced at my lovely saviour, her face in shame 
unutterable, was buried in her hands. Her shrinking 
attitude told me how much she had risked to save my 
worthless life. 

But still I think the apothecary’s assistant had a good 
deal to do with my ultimate escape. His discovery 
certainly put an end to all further search of the house. 
I could hear Luca’s suppressed merriment as ihe padre, 
in tones of horror, anathematized his sister as he led 
the sobbing Teresa away. 

A moment after I started, and so did my protectress, 
as the count’s voice sounded outside our door. “Be 
not alarmed, Aliandra,” he called out, “there is no 
danger to you in all this hurry. To sleep again, fair 
cousin, and may your dreams be pleasant.” 

“Thank you, Luca, I will sleep, secure in your pro- 
tection,” the contessa answered, though her voice had a 
slight tremble in it. Just then hasty returning foot- 
steps rang on the stairs, and we heard the old Giacomo 
snarl breathlessly : 

‘ ‘ Diavolo / he has got away, without dispute ! I have 
been to the stables, and that lean beast of his is gone ! 
Curse him ! Must we always miss him .? ” 

“Not of a necessity, Giacomo,” Count Luca said, 
more quietly than I anticipated. “The bird maybe 
on the wing, but he’ll not fly far. Though the dark 
favor him, you know well what he’ll be likely to meet 
after the sun is up. But to make all sure, let us away 
at once. Both of you know what is to be done. The 
time has come I Bid all hands to the harvest.” 

They tramped away immediately ; the banging door 
showed they had gone out. Count Luca lingered for a 
moment to cry : “Pray for me, Aliandra. You know 
to what end I depart.” 

Then his footsteps followed those of the others. 

I would have spoken, but Aliandra, by her hand, en- 
joined me still to silence. Some five minutes passed 
and then the tramp of steeds broke the interval as they 
rode out of the yard. 

The contessa unbarred the door. With the gesture of 
dismissal, she said : 

“You may depart now, Monsieur Luc. Once clear 


no 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


of the house you must depend upon your own re- 
sources. I shall pray that you may regain your friends 
unharmed.’’ 

“You say that, I broke in joyfully. “You 

do not forget, then ? ” 

“No, I do not forget,” she said softly. '‘I have 
often wondered how you and the maitre-d' armes fared 
in your flight, and what good or evil fortune has been 
your lot since then. The Madonna has heard my 
prayers — ” 

“Your prayers ! ” I echoed in rapture. 

“Yes, my prayers. Should not he to whom I owe 
something more precious than life have a place in 
them } ” she said almost savagely. Her face which 
had been pale grew red with blushes, and she went on 
hurriedly: “But tell me what you have experienced 
since then. You have made at least one step on the 
road to fame. Your sleeves bore no chevrons when 
you were at the cottage of Gianetta. ” 

Though speed perhaps meant my life, I was noth- 
ing loth to gratify her curiosity, it gave me a few more 
minutes of those beautiful eyes, the vivacious loveli- 
ness of her exquisite face. Eagerly, and, I fear, boast- 
fully I recounted all that had befallen me since we 
parted. 

“Glorious ! ” she murmured, as if carried away de- 
spite herself. What opportunities to make a name ! 
And there will be more of them. Monsieur Luc, and 
that very soon ; your troops are gathering for further 
conquest, is it not so.?” Her voice had a soft but 
eager inquiry in it. 

“Really I cannot say, mademoiselle y' I answered. 
“All was quiet at Milan when I left.” 

“General Bonaparte was at Lodi when I departed this 
morning,” she said. “The town is filled with soldiers, 
and rumor declares that they are to march against the 
white coats. Tell me. Monsieur Luc,” she spoke with 
a vehemence that contrasted strongly with her alluring 
tone of a moment before, “ what would happen when 
your general again advanced, should the country rise in 
his rear ? ” 

“What would happen if the country should rise, 
mademoiselle f ” I repeated after her. ‘ ‘ Pardon me, 
but I am not certain that I comprehend.” 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


1 1 1 

“My words are plain enough/’ she replied with im- 
patient flash of eye and pout of lip. “Suppose that 
the French move to meet the Austrians, and that while 
they are thus engaged, the people of Italy take arms, 
and, led by their nobles, fall in their might upon the 
invaders. What would happen then, I ask you.?” 

“Ah,” I answered, as I smiled into her expectant 
eyes. “I can tell you what would certainly happen. 
The heirs of those same nobles you mention would 
come into their inheritances very suddenly ; a host of 
new-made Italian widows would be weeping over the 
red embers of what were of late their homes.” 

“I cannot believe it,” she muttered, as her face grew 
pale and drawn. 

“What else could be the outcome.?” I said sharpl3\ 
“Think you that such men as Count Luca and Giacomo, 
who choose the night for their feats of arms, could 
stand for a moment against the heroes who braved 
the Austrian guns at Lodi .? ” 

“I will not listen to you,” she exclaimed. “My 
cousin loves his country, and the end justifies the 
means. The day will come when his name shall be 
blazoned throughout Italy as that of a great and patri- 
otic leader.” 

I could not repress a laugh. 

“ I see you place no faith in what I predict,” she 
said, flushing. “Perhaps before many hours have 
passed you may recall my words. And now you must 
go. You have delayed too long as it is.” 

“I cannot leave you unprotected, viadeinoiselle” I 
objected. “At any moment those villains may return.” 

“ You forget, sir, that those 'villains ' are my country- 
men,” she answered proudly. 

“At least before I go, mademoiselle,'' I pleaded, 
“tell me that you believe I love you. I shall leave 
you in that hope.” 

“Hope!” she echoed wonderingly, yet her eyes 
fell before mine and the soft color deepened in her 
cheeks, — “I, a countess, you, 2i sans-cidotte—hope P" 

“ Yet, mademoiselle," I cried desperately, “if I were 
a general, you might come to love me were I nobly 
born .? ” 

“ Pestel you are foolish with your ifsl" she cried, 
and laughed in my face. 


12 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


Then — her eyes were to blame ! I could not help it. 
Madly I caught her to my breast, pressing my lips pas- 
sionately upon her own. For a second — or was it but 
my heated fancy — it was returned . Then she slipped 
from me with a frightened cry. 

“A gentleman would not have done that,” she 
panted. The tears sprang to her beautiful eyes. 

The atrocity of my act came home to me. The 
reproachful, sorrowing glance of the contessa showed 
me the despicable thing that I was, unworthy the 
name of man or of soldier. My heart filled with the 
abasement of sickening shame. 

''Mademoiselle," I cried wildly, ‘'you are right. 
Mon Dieu ! you speak the trutli ! I am only a 
miserable sans-culottel I dare not ask for your for- 
giveness. And yet, cojitessa, my love for you will be 
my guiding star to honor.” 

Softly, earnestly her eyes met mine, the radiance of 
a great pity shining through the unshed tears. 

“ I believe you,” she whispered, “ and I forgive you. 
Farewell.” She extended an adorable hand. 

But I turned from her and bounded, like one bereft 
of his senses, down the stairs and out of the house. 

Had I stayed, ruffian that I was, I should have kissed 
her again. 

Scarcely had I passed the threshold when a hand 
with a grip of steel closed upon my shoulder and 
dragged me into the shadow of the building. Thus 
rudely recalled to prudence I grappled eagerly with my 
unknown assailant. My fingers were closing upon his 
throat with intent to throttle him when a quick whisper 
caused me to alter my purpose. 

“His a friend, Citizen Sans-barbe,” came in the 
well-known voice of Tric-trac. 

“A friend who sent me to almost certain death 
some hours since?” I answered angrily. “ A pretty 
trick you played me, juggler, in recommending me to 
seek lodgings at a house that held Giacomo.” 

“I give you my word that I knew not he was there 
until I saw him ride away,” Tric-trac said, with a 
vehemence that made me credit his words. “I came 
hither in the trail of Count Luca, whom I have fol — 
but that is of no interest to you. When the count 
stopped at the priest’s house I saw at once that you 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


II3 

would be in peril. Thinking to serve you, I removed 
your horse from the stable.” 

“My horse I you know where Cassius is, then.?” 
I demanded joyfully. 

“ He awaits you at a few yards from here, saddled 
and ready. Come, you must ride as never you rode 
before ! ” 

“What do you mean ? ” 

“There’s no time for explanations. Is your horse a 
good one .? ” 

“The best in the regiment. Why? ” 

“ Why ? Because the nobles and priests are rousing 
the peasants. They have told them that the Holy 
Father at Rome bids them take arms and massacre 
the French, By morning all Lombardy will be ablaze. 
Nothing can stop the outbreak, but the Little Corporal 
must know of it at once. Come ! ” 

He led me to a spot some hundred paces distant, 
where we found Agricola holding the bridle of Cassius. 
I sprang to the saddle at once. 

“Here.” Tric-trac said, thrusting a letter into 
my hand, “this bit of paper contains all that the 
general should know. Let nothing but Death stop 
you. Deliver that into Bonaparte's own hands. God 
speed you. Your horse carries ihe fate of the Army of 
Italy- Y 


CHAPTER XV. 

THROUGH THE UPRISING VILLAGES. 

-The mountebank’s words were too earnestly uttered 
to admit my doubting him. Without replying I thrust 
the billet into the breast of my jacket, turned the head 
of Cassius eastward and departed at a brisk trot. 

Unmolested I gained the open country and pushed 
swiftly onward alone in the night — alone, save for my 
thoughts. 

Rapturously I recalled the Lady Aliandra’s blushing 
cheeks, her trembling lips, the soft pressure of her hands 
ere I released them. Without question I had stirred 
some feeling in her heart. No mere gratitude could 
8 


1 14 THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 

cause such manifestations of emotion as those I dwelt 
upon with the greedy delight of a miser calculating the 
amount of his worshiped hoard of wealth. 

But then the words she had spoken, the cruel words 
that bade me lay aside all hope because I was not a 
noble / I gritted my teeth and cursed it more fer- 
vently than ever I had done before, this loathed priv- 
ilege of aristocracy that all who possessed it seemed 
to value above everything. 

I had watched nobles as they rode in the tumbrils 
to where the knife and basket waited for them. I 
had shouted with the Parisian populace while they 
mounted the steps of the scaffold. What was it be- 
longing to them that I had not.? How were they 
better than I, those languidly smiling, pallid gentle- 
men, so carelessly graceful as, with their dainty hand- 
kerchiefs, they flicked the grains of snuff from their 
faces, beneath the very shadow of tne guillotine? 
They were brave, I admitted that. But was I to hold 
myself a coward, I who had been before Massena at 
Lodi ? 

As for Count Luca, if nobles were such as he, how 
could Aliandra think rank desirable? 

And yet there must he something in it, there must be 
some quality, some attribute I could not understand 
that made the noblesse beings apart from the majority 
of mankind. Before me rose the vision of the woman 
of my dreams, the victim of the Place de la Revolution. 
Hers was the fairest, noblest face I had ever seen, until 
I met with Aliandra. She had been an aristocrat. It 
could not be a thing to be contemned, to be of a race 
like hers. 

In truth, from what class of people was I sprung? 

A wild suggestion leaped in my heart, finding the.re 
for the momenta kind of encouragement. Might I not 
be the offspring of some titled family whose race had 
been crushed by the power of the Revolution. For 
all I knew the blood of the Rohans flowed in my veins. 
Could I but prove it — 

Cassius stumbled and I came back to the realities of 
life. A pretty train of thought I had been pursuing, in 
truth. What ! Georges Luc, who swore by Marat and 
lauded Santerre, to be wishing that he were a count or 
marquis ! Better far to be the accomplished ape of the 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


II5 

mysterious Tric-trac ! Agricola, at all events^ could earn 
his living. 

They puzzled me, that curious pair of comrades ! 
What manner of man was this strolling mime who took 
such a lively interest in the fate of the Army and could 
venture to write a letter to General Bonaparte? 

Should I not have questioned him further ere I set 
out to do his bidding aiid run the risk of a reprimand 
for delivering false tidings? No, par Dieu I the man 
spoke truth, he could not be lying. The peasants were 
in revolt against us. My ears told me that I was not 
the only one abroad that night. Strange sounds were 
borne across the fields to me on the wings of the 
breeze. 

Curious noises, that would have been unintelligible 
to the citizen traveler, my practised ear understood at 
once. 

Men were gathering under cover of the darkness, 
theirfar-off tramp as they marched making the hum I 
could not mistake. Once I saw the flash and heard 
the faint report of a musket, discharged by accident, no 
doubt, by some careless or unaccustomed handler of 
the weapon. 

The mustering villagers kept to the fields, and while 
night prevailed I met no one on the road. Luck was 
with me. The hours of darkness I improved to the 
utmost. The short gray of the morning and the 
sudden burst of the sun found me far advanced on my 
road. 

Despite what Tric-trac had said I made halt at the 
first house standing near the highway that I chanced 
upon after sunrise. There, without dismounting, I 
called lustily until my cries brought a scared-appearing, 
slatternly drab of a peasant-woman to the door. From 
her I demanded breakfast, offering money for acquies- 
cence and threatening violence in case of refusal. 

What she gave me I ate in the saddle. Yet, as she 
loitered about, eying me with respectful curiosity not 
unmixed with admiration of my gay chasseur dress, I 
presently began to talk with her. Learning that no 
men were at home, I relieved Cassius of my weight, 
fed and watered him, and let him rest for near an hour, 
taking the road again in much improved condition. 

The rays of the sun soon began to beat upon me with 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


Il6 

full force and the highway was exceedingly dusty. 
Though I slackened my pace at times to ease the 
sweating beast beneath me I still pushed steadily 
on. 

There were no peasants at work in the fields on that 
day. I did not remark this fact at first, but as mile 
after mile of the road was left behind me I found my- 
self noticing the absence of the broad hats and white 
shirts of the men, the gay head-kerchiefs and bright- 
colored skirts of the women from the other features of 
the landscape. 

Again and again as I passed villages the ringing of 
bells fell upon my ears. Yet I fancied that their peal- 
ing differed from the solemn, deliberate notes of the 
call for divine service. There was a hasty, feverish 
clang to the bells. 

Were they sounding the tocsin ? I shook my bridle 
to quicken the steadily trotting Cassius, 

The hours of morning slipped away and it was 
nearly noon. I was approaching a little village whose 
houses began to separate themselves and take shape 
under my gaze. The road I followed ran directly 
through the place. 

I took my pistols from my holsters, thrusting them 
into my belt, loosened my saber in its scabbard and 
closed my knees more firmly upon the good steed be- 
neath me. 

Into the village I clattered, casting sharp eyes to 
right and left as I rode up the one narrow street. 

The first few houses I passed seemed tenantless, 
neither man nor woman showing at door or window. 
Half way through the town, however, stood what 
appeared to be a small cabaret^ and before it I made out 
several villagers who had marked my approach. At 
least I saw one of them pointing toward me, and ges- 
tures on the part of others showed that I was of interest 
to the group. As I came near they abruptly turned 
and withdrew within the wineshop. 

One man came out alone immediately and advanced 
to a position in the middle of the road as I trotted up. 
A good-looking fellow he was, stalwart, brown-skinned 
and merry-eyed. He wore no coat, and his white shirt 
was open at the throat and on the chest as if he felt 
the heat. He held a flask in one hand, a goblet in the 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


II7 

other, and waved them temptingly in the air as he 
smiled up at me. 

I answered his smile by one as frank, but my gaze 
flew past him through the shadowy door of the inn. 
Several men were standing inside, and my eyes made 
out the barrels of as many muskets rising to an aim. 

Like a flash I was lying flat along Cassius’s neck, 
and vigorously I gave the spur. 

The good bay bounded like a mad thing as I gored 
his flanks. 

There was a crash as he struck the wine-bearer full 
in the breast. Headlong the treacherous cup-bearer 
rolled in the roadway, and I heard him scream with 
terror and agony as the iron-shod hoofs stamped him 
into the dust. 

On we tore up the street. 

Bang ! Bang ! Bang ! the muskets crackled behind 
us and the bullets sang swiftly by, dealing us no harm, 
but causing me to use my spurs more fiercely. Exe- 
crable marksmen as I knew the peasants of Lombardy 
to be, a chance bullet might get home. 

With a mighty bound Cassius swept free of the houses. 
I rose in the saddle and pulled him down to a canter. 
No need for further racing on such a broiling day, I 
thought. 

A moment later I found that I was mistaken. A 
rapid clatter of hoofs came from the village. Glancing 
over my shoulder 1 saw horsemen urging their beasts 
after me. 

They were riding hard and gained on me at every 
jump. 

Once more I slackened my pressure on the bit and 
moved upon my charger. Nobly he stretched to his 
work and bore me gallantly forward in the dusty sun- 
shine. Rod upon rod, furlong upon furlong, mile upon 
mile slipped away, with Cassius still untiring, yet the 
roar of pursuit rose always in the rear, and it was still 
many miles to Lodi. 

From time to time I turned in the saddle and noted 
the progress of those who followed me. They were 
not all equally well-horsed, as was soon evident from 
the separately rising dust puffs in the highway behind 
me. 

Soon a great gap showed between the horseman who 


I 1 8 THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 

led the chase and his comrades. Wider and wider the 
distance grew. I judged that he was gaining upon 
both me and them. 

As he had the best steed, this rider was probably the 
leader. Might not his fall intimidate the rest and cause 
them to cease their pursuit ? It was worth the finding 
out. 

I drew down to a gallop, while he came rapidly 
nearer. Suddenly I wheeled and trotted toward him. 
He never drew bridle. A puff of smoke spouted in 
the dust-cloud that enveloped him. Another followed 
and to the report a pistol-ball whizzed through my 
shako. A dozen leaps of the mighty gray that carried 
him, and my pursuer was upon me, a stalwart, brawny- 
limbed, black-bearded young bravo, his white teeth 
showing set in a grin of hate, his eyeballs glaring 
fiercely through the dust, his right hand whirling a 
flashing broad-sword around his head! 

Sharply I wrenched Cassius to the left and avoided 
the shock of his charge. 

Cursing he aimed a sweeping side blow at my neck. I 
dropped upon my horse’s mane, his blade passed over 
me, and I gave point with my own. The rush of the 
gray bore him full against my weapon and the hilt 
crashed hard upon his unguarded chest. The concus- 
sion of the blow wrenched my shoulder sadly and I 
was half unhorsed. But the gray sped onward without 
his rider. 

He, flat on his back in the road, needed no second 
blow. A single glance showed me that. 

Their leaders death had its effect upon those who 
rode in his track. The first, as he marked it, drew bridle 
at once and waited for the second. When the latter 
came up his arrival did not appear to bring sufficient 
courage to the pair to urge them on to where I sat, a 
pistol in either hand. 

I waited for them, and yet they came not on. 
Cassius regained his wind the while. Then feeling 
that I had given him what rest I dared, I waved my 
hand in mocking adieu, wheeled and cantered away. 
They moved the^i ; but only until they reached the 
body of their friend. Their chase was ended. I saw 
them take the homeward route. 

For the rest of the way I rode warily. I avoided 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


1 19 

every cluster of houses and held the highway only in 
the open country. I met with no more enemies, but 
an annoying accident later in the afternoon delayed 
me. My horse became dead lame, and I was forced 
to dismount and lead him. An advance in this 
fashion was slow and tedious. The sun had been 
hours below the horizon when I finally passed the 
outposts and limped along the streets of Lodi. 

I wasted no time in searching for the regiment, but 
made straight for the quartier ghieral, where I found it 
an easy matter to gain access to the Commander-in- 
Chief. In the early years of the Republic a private 
could seek his general without much ceremony. 

Through a long room filled with officers busily urg- 
ing their pens over paper upon tables, seats of chairs, 
drum-heads, even knapsacks, I was conducted to a 
smaller chamber where the only occupants were Gen- 
eral Bonaparte and the Chief-of-Staff. 

Both were bending over a large map rolled out upon 
a table, and the little Corsican was pushing his finger 
over its surface as he talked rapidly to the eagerly 
listening Berthier. 

At my entrance they turned, eying me with impa- 
tience. 

“What now?’" sharply demanded the head of the 
army. “ Do you bring news, chasseur P" 

“A despatch for your own hand, citizen gen'eral’' I 
answered, saluting and extending to him Tric-trac’s 
billet. 

He seized the paper, opened it and mastered its 
contents in one comprehensive glance. Then his cold 
eyes were looking me through and through. 

“Ha! my old acquaintance. Corporal Luc, I see.” 
The man never forgot a name or a f^ace. “Where got 
you this missive? Be brief and explicit.” 

Rapidly I told of my meeting with Tric-trac upon 
the Pavia road. 

“ Have you told anyone of the letter or the name of 
the sender ? ” he inquired almost before I had finished. 

“No, mon g'enkral^ I came with it direct to head- 
quarters. I have spoken to none but the officer who 
brought me hither.” 

Bien fait! While upon the road, marked you any 
signs that the country was disturbed ? ” 


120 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


“They were sounding the tocsin, and an attempt 
was made to assassinate me, citizen g'en'eral” I said, 
going on to recount the fruitless attack of the peasants. 

“So you gave one of them the coup-de-grace r> 
Again well done, young cockerel ! ” the general smiled. 
“You can use your steel against others than com- 
rades, it seems. You have done your duty well to-day. 
See that you follow the same path in the future. You 
may now rejoin your regiment. When you report to 
your captain, tell him that I have given you the grade 
of sergeant.'" 


CHAPTER XVI. 

SOME DAY HER BEAUTY MAY MAKE THEE TRAITOR. " 

The bugles sounded the reveille long before daylight 
on the fourth of Prairial (May 24th). Scarce an hour 
elapsed from the time their brazen throats aroused our 
sleeping soldiers ere we were marching in haste along 
the road to Milan. Our regiment, a battalion of gren- 
adiers and a battery of six guns, formed the column. 
Colonel Lannes had command of the whole, and with 
him rode General Bonaparte. 

On the march Poignet d’Acier, riding by my side, 
insisted upon hearing the tale of my ride to Pavia. 
Frankly I gave him all the incidents of my journey, 
suppressing only the fact that I had met Tric-trac. 
When he learned that I had been face to face with 
Giacomo at Binasco and the innkeeper still drew the 
breath of life, Renaud Bronsard swore deep and long. 

Toward evening we gained Milan, where we found 
that the insurrection in that quarter was already put 
down. The garrison of the citadel had made a sortie 
in aid of the peasantry, but our blockading division 
had driven them back. Pavia was in the hands of the 
insurgents. The troops were allowed some hours for 
rest, and then We fell into ranks again, marching for 
Binasco, where, reports said, the Italians had estab- 
lished an advanced post. 

The morning Was far advanced when we came in 
sight of the village, and the long line of the peasants 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


I2I 


drawn up in the wide plain before it to bar our prog- 
ress. The first squadron obliqued to the right, the 
second to the left, and rode front into line, leav- 
ing space for the infantry to deploy between them. 
Within two hundred yards of them we came, and then 
the bugles signaled to halt. We sat quiet in our sad- 
dles, awaiting the arrival of the grenadiers. 

Curiously I scanned the enemy. They were an un- 
warlike crew, though an attempt had been made to 
draw them up in military order. Though a great num- 
ber had muskets, bayonets were few among them, and 
many bore farming implements, scythes, reaping-hooks 
and pickaxes. Here and there a rusty sword was to 
be seen in the crowd. Some carried only stilettos. It 
was a shame to pit this wretched horde against veter- 
ans of the Army of Italy ! Those who led them, 
frenzied with fanatic pride, thought otherwise. 

At frequent intervals, in the rear of the undisci- 
plined line, gallant cavaliers, better clad than the com- 
mon herd, reined handsome chargers and brandished 
bright Weapons as they shouted words of encourage- 
ment to the misguided hinds they had led forth to be 
slaughtered. Nobles of the country they were, agents 
of the Austrian government, stewards of the great land- 
holders. 

Priests, shovel-hatted and garbed in long soutanes^ 
moved about among the ranks or passed slowly before 
them, bearing crucifixes on high while they called upon 
their parishioners to exterminate the French, enemies 
alike to God and man. 

Shrill cries answered their exhortations, curses hurled 
at our soldiers and appeals to Heaven against us were 
heard from flank to flank. It was terrible and at the 
same time pitiable, that clamorous, confiding crowd ! 

Poignet d’Acier, looking straight ahead the while, 
muttered grimly between his set teeth, “ Tonnerre de 
del ! What do they think to do against us with such 
canaille ! Cast eyes to the right, Georges, toward their 
center. Mark yon poltsson on the great black beast 
who has just ridden clear of their front. Hast ever 
seen man or horse before 1 ” 

I looked, and immediately I recognized Count Luca, 
mounted on the charger 1 had seen ridden by him at 
the mountain inn. 


122 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


“ Tis he, by all that’s sacred ! ” I responded. 

“Silence there ! ” called out the chef d’ escadr on. 

The infantry marched up and formed, but the bat- 
tery in their rear did not even unlimber. Small need 
would there be for grape and canister against the foes 
before us ! 

General Bonaparte and Colonel Lannes advanced a 
few rods to the front and scanned the Italians through 
their field-glasses. Count Luca put his horse in mo- 
tion and rode toward them, waving a white handker- 
chief in the air ; but the Colonel motioned him back, 
sending a pistol-bullet over his head as a sign that no 
parley would be permitted. 

Our leaders appeared satisfied, wheeled their steeds 
and returned to the line of battle. I heard the notes of a 
rough voice shout some words, but what they were I 
could not catch. They ceased, and in response a 
thunderous “ Vive la Repuhliqtte I ” rang from the grena- 
dier battalion. 

The drums rolled out the pas de charge and the 
grenadiers swept swiftly forward. Wild yells from the 
expectant peasants heralded their approach, musket- 
shots flashed along the edge of the mob, the air was 
filled with hoots and revilings. But the trained men 
in blue rushed sternly and silently on, never returning 
the fire and keeping a beautiful alignment, though here 
and there a ball went home and a soldier dropped. 

They reached the enemy, who closed with them 
hand to hand. Presently among the other sounds we 
heard shrieks, screams of pain, and calls for mercy, 
telling that the bayonet was doing its deadly work. 
The Italians, untutored in warfare, but still full of fight, 
crowded toward their yielding center. 

Our time had come. 

The chef d'escadron gave the word and we came on 
at the trot. The distance was short and a few seconds 
brought us upon them. They met us with the courage 
of despair. The bugles sounded the gallop, and we 
rode in among them with loose bridles. 

Crash ! cut ! slash ! right and left, before and behind 
our sabers whizzed. They thronged around us at first 
and strove to tear us from our saddles. Comrade pro- 
tected comrade on our part, skill made light work of 
undisciplined fury. Bludgeon and knife were no match 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


123 


for our long weapons. The hoofs of our rearing, 
bounding chargers struck them down as they grasped 
at the bridles. Flesh and blood could not endure it. 
Into fragments we broke their formation and they 
scattered, fleeing wildly toward the village. Then be- 
gan the butchery ! 

Cries for pardon were answered by the saber’s edge. 

I own now with little pride that I was in the thick 
of it, thrusting and striking with the foremost. But a 
mighty fear was on me. Aliandra might still be in the 
village. I must be first in that wild charge — to save her ! 

As the peasants neared the houses, I was heading 
the chase, a dozen leaps of my steed in rear of a knot 
of eight or ten of the fugitives. A powerful Italian, 
who towered head and shoulders above the rest, I 
noticed was looking over his shoulder at me from time 
to time as he ran. He carried a bright sword, a sin- 
gular exception to his fellows, most of whom had 
thrown away their weapons. 

Suddenly the man turned and made straight back 
at me, shouting to the others. They hesitated, then 
joined his rush. As for me, I spurred to meet him 
with a whoop of delight. For the reddened, rage-dis- 
torted face I had dreamed of often. It was Guisardo, 
son of Giacomo. 

A pistol-shot rang out to my left, and the horse 
beneath me, pierced through the head, crashed dead 
to the earth, pinning me down by his weight upon 
my right thigh. Half-stunned I nevertheless rose on 
my elbow and struggled to drag myself free. Guisardo, 
yelling his triumph, was above me in an instant, his 
left hand grasping my shoulder, his right holding the 
sword's point to my throat. 

“ Ho ! little devil with the angel’s face, I have you 
again,” he foamed, gnashing his teeth with savage 
satisfaction. “There is no contessa here to save you 
now, so away you go to the place where every 
French — ” 

A ball whizzed above me, and the brains of Guisardo 
spattered my face, as, relaxing his grasp, he tumbled 
in a heap beside me, stone dead. His comrades 
screamed and betook themselves once more to their 
heels as Poignet d’Acier dashed up, clutching his still 
smoking carbine. 


124 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


The matire d'arrnes was out of the saddle in a moment 
and dragged me from under the lifeless carcase of my 
horse. 

“Thanks, Renaud,” I said. That was all. We 
knew each other, we two. 

Together we hurried into the village where the gren- 
adiers were still driving the peasants from house to 
house, and the clatter of musket-shots told the fate that 
our soldiers were dealing to the luckless inhabitants 
of Binasco. As a warning to the rest of Italy the 
order was given to fire the town, and already the flames 
were rising. 

With all the speed I could manage we hastened to 
the house of Father Giulio. As we came to the 
door a tongue of fire burst from the roof and a column 
of smoke whirled aloft in the air. 

Suddenly Poignet d’Acier cried: '' Parhleu ! a wo- 
man ! " He saw Madame Teresa. She lay just within 
the door, where the bayonet had struck her down. 

Her fate made me know what Aliandras would 
also be. Wildly I flew through every room of the 
burning house, but, thank God, found no trace of the 
lady of my love, save a little kerchief that I placed 
upon my breast for memory of her. She must have 
left the village ere death came upon it. 

The town of Binasco transformed into a cluster of 
blazing ruins, our soldiers gathered on the plain outside. 
Here a rest of several hours was given us, both that the 
men, fatigued by the long march of the morning, might 
make a meal and recruit their strength, and that the 
reports of the flying peasants together with the distant 
smoke of burning Binasco might strike terror to the 
hearts of those who had gathered to defy us at the city 
of Pavia. 

We made good use of our period of repose, and when 
the column took up the march once more we pressed 
forward with redoubled vigor. Late in the afternoon 
we approached the old walls, relics of the middle ages, 
that still enclosed the place, which at that time could 
boast a population of over thirty thousand souls. A 
horde of armed peasants, numbering several thousands, 
had flocked in from the surrounding country, and the 
city was in their hands. To the pleadings and re- 
monstrances of the good Archbishop of Milan, whom 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


125 


our General had sent forward to persuade them to lay- 
aside thoughts of resistance, they returned words of 
defiance and execration. 

They manned the walls as we came near, prepared 
to perish under the eyes of their chiefs rather than 
allow us to enter. To carry such defenses with no more 
troops than a battalion of infantry and a regiment of 
horse was no trifling affair. Therefore our leader did 
not attempt it. 

He knew full well the effect that ten or twelve hours 
of inaction would have upon the hastily-assembled, 
ill-assorted mob that was ranged against us. Popular 
uprisings lose force with every passing hour. A night 
spent in riotous patroling of the streets would take 
much of the spirit out of the foe ; even the troopers in 
our ranks knew that. 

Our column retired to a safe distance from the ram- 
parts, sentries were posted and as darkness fell the 
fires of our bivouacs sparkled on every side. 

Our suppers disposed of, Poignet d’Acier drew me 
aside from the rest of our mess to chat over a confiden- 
tial pipe. 

“ Dost know, Georges, that was a narrow miss thou 
hadst of it to-day,” he began. “There is a limit to all 
things, Georges, and Twas no proof of wisdom in 
thee to be ten lengths ahead of the squadron.” 

But my thoughts were elsewhere. “Renaud,” I 
said, after we had smoked awhile in silence, “what 
is it that makes the aristocrats so different from other 
folk.? Might — might it not after all be a fine thing to 
belong to them ? ” 

“ Sacre! who put that thought into thy head ? ” and 
the rnaitre cCarmes stared at me suspiciously. 

“Oh, no one,” I said lamely, “I but wondered — ” 

“ To the devil with such wonderings ! ” he retorted 
testily. “ Would’st be such a one as Count Luca.?” 

'‘Pesief You seem to have Count Luca on your 
cut-and-thrust brain, Poignet d’Acier ? ” I jeered, for I 
liked not the mention of this man whom Aliandra re- 
garded with such esteem. 

• Sapris/i! On my brain now, but someday I’ll have 
this Conti di Luca upon my saber. I know to an inch 
when I am going to send my point home. I see by 
your face you have an idea in your head about him 


126 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


also ; but, my boy, you must promise me to leave 
Count Luca to my sword/' 

“Yes,” I answered moodily, ‘Mf I killed her cousin 
she might not — ” 

Here I bit my tongue for the niaiire d’arrnes was 
gazing at me, a grim smile rippling the scar upon his 
cheek. 

Finally he burst out : “ ^ Love me 1 ’ that’s what thou 
wast going to say. Dame! the boy is looking high. 
La Contessa is one of the greatest heiresses in Pied- 
mont. Bah ! Monsieur le Sergeni, Mademoiselle la Vivan- 
diere is better mate for thee. Wed her and breed 
Frenchmen, not half-bloods. Beware the beauty of 
this Lady of the Mountains. Some day her charms 
may make thee traitor to la Repuhlique Then the 
anger died out of his voice, and he muttered contempla- 
tively, “And yet, it is not strange! Like seeks like — 
Noblesse will turn to noble blood. ’’ 

“What mean you by those words, Poignet d’Acier ? ” 
I cried, a wild kind of a hope springing in my heart. 

My hand was on his arm, my eyes were full of ques- 
tion ; but the maitre shook me off, laughing lightly, al- 
most sneeringly : Sapristil would you have me spoil 
the making of a general.?” and strode to another 
camp-fire where the bizarre and familiar figures of Tric- 
trac and his ape were surrounded by admiring chas- 
seurs. 


CHAPTER XVII. 

THE TALE OVER THE CAMP-FIRE. 

With a muttered curse I followed Bronsard. 

The juggler waved us a merry greeting as he caught 
sight of us. 

“ A fair good-evening to my old friends, citizens 
Poignet d’Acier and Sans-barbe,” he called out. 

“ And whence did you come, friend Tric-trac .? ” de- 
manded Poignet d’Acier as the mountebank paused. 

“Oh ! from the city, from Pavia yonder, Sacre I ’tis 
no place for me at present for one in my trade. Mes- 
sieurs the citizens Italian are just now too busy flour- 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 12/ 

ishing their own knives about, to care to watch while I 
play with mine.” 

“So the pepsants will fight to-morrow ? ” I remarked. 

“Fight.? Satig-dieu / Will they do anything else.? 
They are here for no other purpose,” the juggler 
declared. “ Since the sun went down and your column 
retired, for want of other adversaries they are fighting 
each other. Your friend Count Luca is of their num- 
ber, citizen Sans-Barbe. ” 

“ Friend .? ” I ejaculated in surprise. 

“Yes, yours, my little cliasseur-a-cheval. You’ve 
roused the se7iliment of the Count Luca. He has not 
forgotten the fashion in which you trussed him up and 
rolled him under the table when you carried off his 
despatches. And, besides, it seems that he fancies a 
certain pair of dark eyes have looked too much on your 
blue ones. Ha ! ha ! by the Republic ! but he may 
have good reason ! See the little citizen color up ! ” 
Tric-trac laughed. 

“I am not blushing, Tric-trac, ’tis but the blaze of 
the fire,” I protested furiously. 

“Never take shame if the blood does come to your 
cheeks, Sans-barbe,” the juggler answered, suddenly 
ceasing his guffaws and regarding me with a kindly 
glance. “It tells of a warm and generous spirit, 
that same mantling color.” 

Suddenly I voiced a fear that was uppermost in my 
brain. 

“Tell me,” I asked, “is the Lady Aliandra now in 
that city.? Where has she taken lodgings if she be yet 
in Pavia .? Women will fare hardly in to-morrow’s 
assault, and I will protect liet' against even the Com- 
mander-in-chief ! ” 

Parhleu! but I believe you would! ” Tric-trac re- 
joined with a smile at my eager tone. “She’ll give 
you no chance to enact the chevalier to-morrow, Sans- 
barbe. Count Luca saw to it that the Lady Aliandra 
left Pavia before he set out for Binasco. Having done 
her part she is far on her way back to the moun- 
tains by this time.” 

I breathed a sigh of relief. Then I asked curiously, 
“What part.?” 

“Roused the peasants to strike for Italy ! They 
believe in her — her beauty, and her rank make them 


28 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


think her an Italian Joan of Arc. But now I’ve 
bestowed enough of my valuable conversation on you, 
my friend, and must give a share of my talents 
to our comrades here. Attention, Agricola ! Appretez 
armes !'" and Tric-trac tossed the club to the ape. 

I heaved a mighty sigh. What would Bonaparte 
decree to this lovely girl when he had destroyed the 
peasants that rose at her inspiring. 

When the well-entertained sabreurshixCi lounge A back 
to their own messes Tric-trac and the ape settled them- 
selves to pass the night with us. Agricola seemed to 
conceive a sudden strong fancy to me, waddling over 
to a seat on the ground at my side, nestling close to 
me, and allowing me to pet him with evident pleas- 
ure. I was by no means ill-pleased to be singled 
out thus for attention by the accomplished monkey. 
So I stroked his hairy hide, tried to converse with him 
by nods, grunts and smiles, and made much of him in 
every way. 

The hour grew late. One by one the troopers 
around us rolled themselves in their blankets and fell 
asleep. Soon even Poignet d'Acier was snoring, and 
none remained awake but Tric-trac and myself ; we 
two puffing at our pipes, the ape rubbing his great 
head against my shoulder as I stared dreamily into 
the fire. 

The mountebank rose cautiously and moved his po- 
sition to one on my free side, taking care not to dis- 
turb my slumbering comrades. 

‘^I see, citizen Sans-barbe, that you carry a pair of 
sergeant’s chevrons here now,” he whispered, rub- 
bing his finger along my sleeve. “ ’Tis evident 
that you did my errand, and carried the billet I gave 
you safe to the Little Corporal.” 

Slowly I turned my eyes and met his glance. 

“What billet.? what errand do you speak of.?” I 
murmured in cool surprise. 

“What billet I Why, the one I gave you the day 
before yesterday, after you escaped from the priest’s 
house. Nom d'un nom ! why do you stare at me so 
blankly .? Is the boy mad ! ” 

“Tric-trac,” I whispered calmly back, “you have 
been dreaming, my friend. Such a billet and such a 
meeting with you I cannot recall. You know as well 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


129 


as I do that I have never set eyes on you since the 
night when first we met.” 

“ Not even when I directed you to the house of the 
good Father Giulio in Binasco.?”he suggested mali- 
ciously, his eyes full of insinuation. 

“ Not even then,” I returned imperturbably. “That 
also must be a part of your dream. You must be 
careful, comrade, such spells are bad for one’s health. 
Take my advice and cease dreaming.” 

Par la bat he de man pere ! young soldier, you ar 
no fool!” the juggler grinned. “'Tis plain that you 
have had some experience with the General Bonaparte 1” 

“If I have, I have profited enough by it never to 
recollect dreams, Tric-trac, ” was my low-voiced an- 
swer. 

“ Right ! You are to be trusted, I see, even though 
you are so young. Before you slumber there are a 
few things I would tell you,” the mountebank urged. 
“You paid but little heed to my warnings earlier 
in the evening. Believe me, they were earnestly 
uttered. I have a liking for you, Sans-barbe, and it 
is the stronger since Agricola has shown tliat he feels 
toward you as 1 do. The ape is never deceived in a 
man and I rely greatly on his judgment. Citizen Sans- 
barbe, I tell you once more, 'ware the Count Luca 
Campogiacinto.” 

“You seem to have an accurate knowledge of the 
Count Luca, Tric-trac,” I observed some what curi- 
ously. “One would suppose that you have made the 
man a study.” 

“Aye, that I have,” rejoined the mountebank with a 
vicious gritting of his teeth. “ No man in Italy has 
caused so many of his schemes to come to nothing.” 

I bent toward him, my interest fully aroused. 

“ Why, what lies between you and yon Sardinian 
captain I ” I asked. 

“Well, Citizen Sans-barbe,” whispered the juggler 
after a moment's consideration, “since you wish my 
story, here it is. It m.ay throw some light on matters 
you've wondered at since you've made the acquaintance 
of that singular pair of friends, myself and Agricola. 

“ Had you met me twelve years ago,” he continued, 
“you had not seen the homeless, wandering vaga- 
bond you know to-day. Captain of a stout felucca 

9 


130 THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 

with a crew of jolly sea-dogs devoted to my in- 
terests, I drove a prosperous trade between Naples 
and Marseilles. Every voyage brought me profit, 
and if I did load the greater part of La belle Marie's 
hold with a contraband cargo, the officers of the 
revenue were blind, as was to their advantage. I 
was growing rich and thinking of retiring and build- 
ing for myself a mansion by the bay of Naples where 
I could take my ease in the world, when 1 met a 
woman whom I worshiped at sight. 

“She was far below me in station, the daughter of 
a wretchedly impoverished shopkeeper. Indeed, it 
chanced that he had brought her to the house of one 
of my patrons, a rich merchant to whom he owed 
money, in the hope that a sight of her beauty and her 
tears would incline my friend to grant him longer time 
for payment. 1 saw her there, and two days after I 
paid her father’s debts. A week later she became my 
wife. Ah, young chasseur, that was a happy time for 
me ! 

“ She could not bear the thought of leaving Naples, 
and so to please her I purchased a handsome villa 
there. Nothing was spared to make it suitable for her. I 
gave her dresses and jewels, more such than she had ever 
dreamed of. For she was very beautiful, my Julie, 
no woman in Italy could equal her in face or form. 
iVnd I loved her, my God ! how I loved her ! All that 
she desired I procured for her ; it was my delight to 
forestall her slightest wish. 

“To live in this fashion made my continuing to fol- 
low the sea imperative. Thus I was often absent 
from home for long periods. But in the intervals be- 
tween my voyages the fondness of my wife repaid me 
for the perils that I dared by sea. 

“But why dwell on ray fool’s paradise. For such 
it was. My wife had never loved me. i was for her 
merely an escape from a life of poverty and privation. 
While I was at sea, time hung heavy on her hands and 
she sought amusement. She found it in the society 
of a young noble, a scion of an old Piedmontese family, 
who came to Naples with his father. 

“I returned from the last voyage I ever made to 
find my house empty and my wife gone. She had 
fled with the Count Luca Carnpogiacinto. 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


I3I 

Scarcely had I comprehended what had befallen 
my happiness when a new misfortune struck me down. 
I was seized by the officers of the customs and cast into 
prison. The young fiend who had stolen my wife 
wanted money also. He knew that I was reported 
wealthy, and from my wife he had learned of my 
smuggling pursuits. My possessions were confiscated 
and half the sum went to the informer, Count Luca ! 

“After three years of imprisonment, Sans-barbe, I 
escaped. God heard my prayers and presented the 
opportunity, which I was not slow to seize. 

“ Free once more, I sought for Count Luca. He 
had heard of my being at large and was on his guard. 
Three times I barely missed falling a victim to the 
assassins he employed to make away with me. Their 
fourth attempt was more successful. Sans-barbe, you 
are looking at a man who has been dead some years.'* 

'' Parhleu I said, as Tric-trac paused to grin at me. 
“So far as I can observe you are an excessively 
well-preserved corpse.” 

“ Aye, that I am ! " the mountebank swore with an 
oath that was all the more terrible when heard in the 
suppressed tones we were using. “ Though the Count 
Luca fully believes me to be no more among the liv- 
ing, he was cheated by his bravos. I took advantage 
of it and he ceased to fear a dead man. To Marseilles 
I repaired and there I secured Agricola from a friend to 
whom I had given the ape before my marriage. The 
brute was always fond of me, as I had been his master 
almost from his infancy. Amateur work of the juggling 
sort I had been in the habit of practising to while away 
time on shipboard. To train Agricola was hard, but I 
accomplished it. That once done I had a safe disguise, 
and to Italy I returned. For five years. Citizen Sans- 
barbe, I have taken a pleasure in thwarting and bring- 
ing to naught every scheme conceived by Count Luca 
Campogiacinto." 

^^Diable!” I broke in, “but I cannot understand 
that. In your place I should have killed him off- 
hand ! ” 

“What ! without paying back to him the despair and 
suffering he had caused me? No, no, Sans-barbe, 
that were a poor revenge ! Mine has been sweeter 
than that, and for some months now I have tasted its 


132 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


delights almost daily. For, Sans-barbe, strange as you 
may think it, Count Luca knows me and trusts me ; 
not as the man he wronged, of course, but as Tric- 
trac the juggler. He got into money troubles soon 
after the old count, his father, died, and I showed him 
a way out of them by pushing him tight and fast into 
the clutches of the Austrians. Through me he ac- 
cepted the gold of Austria, who paid well her agents 
to start this insurrection of the peasants. Be sure that 
I -watched every step in the preparations, Sans-barbe, 
and that the part Count Luca has taken is well known 
at headquarters. " 

“But your wife, Tric-trac .? what of her?" I de- 
manded suddenly. 

“Julie is no more," the mountebank returned in 
sad accents. “ Luca grew tired of her and forsook the 
woman he had led astray. Friendless and despairing 
she died two years ago in a brothel at Milan." 

“ Sacr'e nom t " I muttered, glaring at the fire. 

“You understand now, young chasseur, why I take 
so great an interest in Count Luca," the juggler re- 
sumed. “You will not be surprised when I tell you 
that I seek him often to draw from him his projects 
and then to accomplish that they shall miscarry. He 
wishes to mend his broken fortunes by a marriage 
with his cousin, the Co?itessa Aliandra, but she — Hold ! 
it is no business of mine or of yours either, that part. 
Sufficient to say, I had a finger in the pie, and Count 
Luca has not gotten her yet, nor will he ever ! " 

“But, Tric-trac," I observed, “here is something that 
puzzles me. Why, if the Lady Aliandra detests the 
Count Luca — why, I say, was she with him the other 
day at Binasco ? " 

“In a dream only, you mean, Sans-barbe," the old 
fellow said dryly, “you must be careful, my friend. 
Dreaming is a bad habit." 

I laughed as I saw how neatly he had turned the 
tables on me. 

“As to the Lady Aliandra," Tric-trac went on, “be 
sure that every act of hers is pure and noble. She is 
an angel. I would shed my blood for her at any 
time. Count Luca is the only one of the Campo- 
giacintos toward whom I cherish feelings of revenge. 
After to-morrow he will be a fugitive with a price set 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


33 


upon his head. / have attended to that. The Little 
Corporal has his name many times over among- his 
memoranda. Proscribed in Piedmont, Naples, and 
Lombardy, the Count will have to take ui-) the life of a 
wild beast. ’Twill be but a few weeks ere he is hunted 
down and destroyed. And I shall be there at the 

The mountebank ceased, and though I spoke to him 
twice he seemed absorbed in deep thought and I re- 
frained from disturbing him farther. Tired and drowsy, 
I pulled my blanket about my shoulders and stretched 
out at full length on the ground. Sleep soon closed 
my eyes, and their last waking glance rested on the 
figure of Tric-trac still staring moodily into the fire, 
lost to all else but his dream of vengeance. 

The next da}'-, we captured and sacked Pavia and put 
the insurrection of the peasants on the plains of Lom- 
bardy to a bloody yet immediate end. 


BOOK III. 


A MODERN JOAN OF ARC 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

THE DANCER FAVORITA. 

The rising of the insurgents had delayed the opening 
of our campaign, and bitterly we made them repent 
that they had retarded our movements against the 
Austrians. But time was passing and our army on the 
Oglio River sadly needed the Commander-in-chief. So 
we marched away to rejoin it at last, leaving desola- 
tion and death to mark our passage through those smil- 
ing Italian plains. 

On our reaching Lodi, I recovered my good charger 
Cassius whom I found entirely cured of his lameness. 
The old brute showed delight at seeing me again, 
and I confess that I was glad to be once more upon 
his back. 

A reinforcement of ten thousand men that had been 
sent to him from Germany had restored the confidence 
of the Austrian General Beaulieu. With his forces 
thus strengthened, he had ventured to leave the 
Tyrol and had advanced to occupy the line of 
the Mincio. Beyond that stream he had stationed 
his main body in Valeggio, supporting it by a strong 
reserve at Villa Franca. Again our little Corsican 
commander befooled his aged opponent. Desiring to 
cross the Mincio at Borghetto and Valeggio he em- 
ployed once more the very tactics that had won for us 
the passage of the Po. One of our divisions moved 

134 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


135 


upon Peschiera, while another threatened Lonato. 
Beaulieu was thus led to believe that the Army of Italy 
would endeavor to effect a crossing on the upper 
Mincio or even try to turn the Lake of Garda. Under 
this impression he took his measures to defeat us and 
fell blindly into the trap prepared for him. 

On the 9th of Prairial (May 29th) our squadron ad- 
vanced upon the plains before Borghetto. Up to this 
day the cavalry of the army had never been able to 
claim the renown deservedly accorded to the infantry 
and artillery. Our reputation was far below that of the 
Austrian horsemen, to whom, many of our generals 
contended, we could not be successfully opposed. 

But General Bonaparte had his own ideas on the 
subject. Placing strong bodies of grenadiers upon 
either flank, he supported us in the rear by artillery 
and hurled us in full career at the famous troopers 
of Austria. Murat led on our charge. Murat, that 
beau-ideal of a dashing sabreur, that black- whiskered, 
swarthy, long-ringletted light-horseman, whose tower- 
ing plume of white feathers was to sweep so resistlessly 
in after years over the broken wrecks of mightier armies 
than we ever dreamed of then. As yet, he was but a 
colonel of hussars, an aide-de-camp to the general. 

He rode in advance of us that day, and, following 
him, we met the charging enemy blade to blade, and 
fought them well, and tamed their German pride, and 
beat them soundly in the level lands there by Bor- 
ghetto. 

When they broke at last and coursed away with 
their bloody spurs buried deep in the flanks of their 
flying steeds, to seek the protection of their supporting 
infantry, a cheer wild and joyous as any I have ever 
joined in burst from the throats of our conquering 
cavalrymen. We felt that we were worthy to belong 
to the Army of Italy. 

The musketry of our footmen presently echoed 
through the streets of Borghetto as they drove the 
troops of the Emperor Francis from the town. As the 
Austrians fled they destroyed an arch of the bridge. 
But what mattered that to troops like ours.? General 
Gardanne, with a body of grenadiers, rushed into the 
river. Holding their muskets above their heads, they 
gained the farther shore. The dispirited foe could not 


136 THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 

manage to drive them back. The bridge was repaired, 
and the passage of the Mincio was won. 

His line thus forced, Beaulieu again retired upon the 
Tyrol. 

In the vielc'e at Borghetto I fortunately chanced to 
receive upon the guard of my saber a descending 
Austrian blade, whose owner intended that it should 
reach the head of Colonel Billot. Old Bouche de 
feu ” gave me no word of thanks at the time. On the 
contrary, he swore vigorously because the shoulder of 
Cassius pressed hard against his thigh. But he did not 
forget me, for all that, and showed his appreciation of 
what I had done in a way that to me was far more 
gratifying than a courteous speech. On the day fol- 
lowing the action he promoted me to the grade of 
company-sergeant. He knew well what sort of thanks 
pleases a soldier, the tiger-eyed colonel of the regiment 
Damremont. 

That gallant body of men and horses did not par- 
ticipate in the pursuit of the Kaiserlicks. 

While the rest of the army pressed untiringly in the 
rear of Beaulieu’s flying forces, we returned by easy 
marches to Milan. There we halted for some days, 
awaiting orders from headquarters, though all of us 
wondered that we were not immediately despatched to 
quell the disorders that had arisen in the states of 
Genoa and Piedmont and the imperial fiefs. 

For, while General Bonaparte was engaged in thrash- 
ing Beaulieu, trouble was rife along the whole extent 
of our lines of communication and supply. A great 
number of the nobles, sympathizing with the Austrians, 
and lightly held by tlie fact that their nations were at 
peace with the Republic, took the field against us. 
Among them were many officers from the "Sardinian 
army that we had compelled to an armistice when first 
we entered Italy. They gathered bands recruited from 
their own vassals, from the deserters of both French 
and Austrians, and from the desperate banditti of the 
mouhtains. With these men they attacked our con- 
voys, assassinated our couriers, kept back our conva- 
lescents who were en route from France to rejoin their 
regiments, and made the paths of the Apenines un- 
safe for any of our detachments, except those of unusual 
stiength. 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


37 


The Genoese, Roman and Sardinian governments 
seemed powerless to stop their outrages, and every 
day brought to Milan its tale of the defeat and ex- 
termination of small bodies of our soldiers. The 
cruelty and daring of many of the chiefs of these Bar- 
bels, as they called them, was constantly talked of 
throughout the whole ciy. Prominent among the 
names I heard mentioned for success and brutality 
was that of Count Luca Campogiacinto. 

On the morning of the third day after the regiment’s 
arrival at Milan, being off duty, I took advantage of 
the occasion to stroll about the streets of the city and 
display before the admiring eyes of the Milanese ladies 
a new green uniform, fresh from the hands of the 
regimental tailor, that fitted me without a wrinkle. 
The consciousness of wearing a perfectly-setting coat 
always gives a man an excellent opinion of himself 
Particularly when the coat is adorned across the front 
with bars of heavy white corded braid, fetchingly 
looped beneath the numerous bright buttons. You can 
well imagine, then, after what fashion I swaggered, 
giving all the prominence in my power to the gay 
chevrons that I, one of the most youthful sergeants in 
the army, was so proud to wear. 

Happening to be opposite the great cathedral for 
which the city is so justly celebrated, I stopped in 
my sauntering progress, hesitated for a few moments, 
and then entered, hoping for a sight of those great 
treasures that Poignet d’Acier had feelingly recounted 
to me. They were not on view that day, and I wan- 
dered slowly through the long aisles of that mighty 
building, wondering at its magnificent proportions. 
x\fter a time I blundered into a part of the church 
where a priest, standing before a crowd of kneeling de- 
votees, mostly women, was conducting some sort of a 
religious service. 

Moved by a sudden strange impulse I did not turn 
back, but advanced and knelt among the worshipers. 
As to wiiat the ceremony was I had not the faintest 
idea. Mass, angelus or vespers were all one to those 
who marched beneath the tricolor. But the solemn 
tones of the good fathers voice brought back to me 
almost forgotten memories of my childhood and re- 
called the lovely woman I had seen perish under the 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


1 33 

g-iiillotine. Therefore I remained, maintaining the 
same reverent attitude with the others. 

Presently I awoke to the fact that I was an object of 
more than ordinary interest to the rest of the congrega- 
tion. Eyes were turned curiously in my direction, and 
I noticed several of those who should have been ab- 
sorbed in the service nudge their neighbors and direct 
their attention toward me. Truly it was no wonder 
that they stared, tor to see a chasseur-a-cheval in a 
church was almost incredible — except when he sought 
the edifice to stable his charger there. 

Among the eyes that gazed thus on me with wonder- 
ing regard I marked a pair that fixed my attention on 
the instant. Great brown orbs they were, melting 
and languishing, with a world of passion smouldering 
in their velvety depths. There are certain men who 
can never resist the temptation to look long and ad- 
miringly into beautiful feminine eyes. The flashes 
that shoot from them always play great havoc in their 
hearts. And such a man I have always been. Jar^ii- 
hleu! A many of the sex can boast that they have had 
easy conquest of the affections of trooper Sans-barbe ! 

So I stared and stared, my own blue eyes growing 
greater and greater with every second, I have no doubt. 
All at once the thought struck me that my action was 
undeniably rude. Swiftly I fastened my look on the 
stone pavement, while I felt the ready blood mantle 
in my cheeks. 'Tis a most inconvenient habit to pos- 
sess, that one of blushing ! Many a trying affair it 
has brought upon me that otherwise I would have been 
able to avoid. Some men there have been who, mis- 
taking the fact that the color comes readily to my face 
for an indication .of a diffident and retiring tempera- 
ment, have presumed upon it. And I have been 
obliged to convince them of their error. 

Though my eyes I kept directed to the floor, they 
would endeavor to turn toward the spot where the 
owner of the brown ones knelt. After some seconds 
I ventured to cast a hasty glance at her. 

She was still regarding me, and as I met her gaze, a 
smile lighted up her beautiful features and made her 
lovely southern face adorable. That smile and the 
dazzling radiance of the look that accompanied it did 
for me completely, I turned redder than before, but I 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 1 39 

flashed back a stare that must have taught the lady that 
though I could blush I was still a chassetir-a-cheval. 

For the remainder of the service I paid no attention 
to the words of the priest. All of my thoughts were 
centered upon the charming unknown. Blue eyes 
sought brown with persevering constancy. At times 
brown flew swiftly away and avoided them, at others 
they dwelt long upon blue, and their ardent glances 
conveyed a host of tender meanings. With the part- 
ing “amen” blue rose to his booted feet and gathered 
up his saber with the firm intention of speaking to 
brown immediately. 

She did not give me the chance. I entered the aisle 
to depart in advance of her, and made my pace terribly 
slow in order to allow her to come abreast of me. But 
she swept quickly past with a swish of silken skirts 
about her dainty little feet. As she went by she turned 
her head and smiled into my face again, at the same 
time giving me a warning and negative nod. Another 
woman, much older and not so well clad, walked be- 
side her. 

I followed them to the street, determined not to miss 
finding out where she dwelt. But after my inghitie had 
taken some fifty steps in the open air she looked back 
and noted my pursuit. Again she smiled and shook her 
head to forbid my chase, laying a finger upon her en- 
chanting lips in sign of caution. 

A knot of young Italians attired in the height of the 
prevailing mode, who had parted with low reverences to 
allow her to pass, did not fail to mark her gesture, and 
as I came to a halt I found a dozen hostile and disdain- 
ful glances fixed upon me. 

I returned the stares with hearty good-will, and 
squaring my shoulders I was about to move haughtily 
away when one of the Milanese spoke to his com- 
panions in a tone that he plainly intended that I should 
catch. 

“ Corpo di Smi Marco ! ” he observed with a super- 
cilious sneer. “ The assurance of these foreign French 
dogs is wonderful. Here is one who evidently imagines 
himself back among the dames de la Halle of Paris. It 
is almost enough to cause one to take in hand the im- 
parting of the lessons the Austrians should have taught 
them.” 


140 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


I turned on my heel and walked directly up to him. 
“ If the manners of Frenchmen be bad, signor,'’ I said 
calmly in Italian, “we are always open to instruc- 
tion. Would it please you to offer the same in my 
case .? ” 

“ You have mistaken your degree, citizen," he re- 
turned contemptuously. “Did you wear an epaulet 
it were a matter of another color ; but as it is I cannot 
play the pedagogue/' 

“True, Rosso viconti," one of his friends chimed in. 
“The nobles of Milan have not yet sunk to the school- 
ing of French sous-officiers" 

They both spoke in the language of France, and 
their manner was offensively insulting. 

“I thank you both, messieurs," I rejoined with a 
smile. “You remind me that a soldier of the Army 
of Italy should be above regarding the words of mere 
lazzaroni" 

My speech had its effect, as I had intended it should. 
They grew furious in a moment and speedily all ques- 
tion of rank was laid aside. Before we parted a meet- 
ing was arranged for that very evening. 

The affair came off at sunset, Poignet d’Acier, who 
accompanied me to the ground, had been making in- 
quiries concerning my opponent during the afternoon. 
From him I learned that the man who had affronted 
me was a leading spirit among the jeunesse doree of the 
city, an arbiter of their amusements and their fashions, 
of considerable experience in affairs of honor, and a 
scion of one of the noblest and wealthiest families in 
Milan. They gave him a magnificent and imposing 
funeral two days later. 

As we were returning to our quarters the maitre 
d'armes suddenly asked, 

“ I suppose you know the name of the woman who 
caused the matter, Georges .? " 

“Not I,” 1 carelessly replied. “Besides, Renaud, 
her name has nothing to do with it.” 

“ Hasn't it ? ” he laughed. “Perhaps not, but it may 
cause the duel to be widely talked of.” 

“Who was she then } ” I demanded. 

“La Favorita,” Poignet d’Acier answered with a 
meaning grin. 

“ La Favorita ! ” I echoed in surprise. 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


I41 

“ None other, my boy, I can assure you. I learned 
that this afternoon while attending to the preliminaries. 
Signor Rossoviconti had more reason than you dreamed 
of for resenting your pursuit of her, for they say lie 
was madly enamored of the beautiful dancer, as is 
also, according to common report, a certain citizen 
of the Republic with whom you have had dealings. 
Best have a care, Georges ; 'tis no wise thing to hunt 
with the eagle.” 

''Far Dieu ! Renaud Bronsard,” I said haughtily. 
“I hunt where I please, and I have as much right to 
this chase as Buonaparte himself, aye, more.” 

“Without doubt, my boy, and you have no need to 
i^Wme so. But thy father’s son has not at his disposal 
the millions of Italy. Money counts for much with 
most women. Furthermore it is not prudent to spell 
the general’s name as they do in Corsica. The u has 
gone out of fashion since Montenotte.” 

“And so that was La Favorita,” I broke in. “What 
they say of her does little justice to her beauty, Renaud. 
Hein! but she is a divinity, that woman.” 

“Therefore she’s sought by the gods, and a sergeant 
of light-horse should make haste to put her out of his 
thoughts,” Poignet d’Acier warned me, giving me an 
affectionate tap on the shoulder. 

Despite the words of the maitre-di armes I could not 
banish from my brain the vision of the adorable woman 
of the cathedral. Her name I knew well. I had heard 
many stories of her beauty, extravagance, and caprice 
in matters of love. An idol of the populace of Milan 
she was, a danseuse of the opera, whose lithe grace 
and beauteous countenance had endeared her to the 
hearts of the Italians and brought lovers in scores to 
her agile little feet. Among the soldiers it was current 
that many of our highest ranking officers had gone 
wild about her, and were lavishing upon her the gold 
they had earned amid the roar of the cannon. 

Surrounded as she was by the attentions of those 
great men, I knew that there could be but little chance 
that she would bestow a second thought upon Sergeant 
Luc. Nevertheless, as I rolled uneasily upon my couch 
that night, I could not keep from thinking of those 
liquid, passionate brown e)ms. With the vanity of 
youth I could not quite bring myself to believe my 


142 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


cause hopeless. And I wondered when and how I 
could manage to see her again. 

The next day put an end to my uncertainty. Early 
in the morning a ragged little imp of a Milanese street 
urchin thrust a small, delicately scented bit of paper 
into my hand and hurried away before I could think to 
detain him. 

Opening the billet I found that it was worded thus. 

“ If you are as e^iter prising with Love as you are skilful 
with the sword, be at the door by which you left the cathe- 
dral yesterday at half an hour after nine o'clock to-7iight.*' 

That was all ; but it was sufficient to set me ablaze 
with anticipation. I sought Captain Mirador at once. 
Strict and punctilious performance of my duty had 
gained me my officer’s favor. It was easy then for 
me to obtain from him a twelve hours’ leave of ab- 
sence to begin at sundown. The rest of the day I 
passed in a fever of excitement. Never had I known 
the hours to drag by so slowly. 

In an affair of the kind that I counted upon there 
was small likelihood that any danger could threaten 
me. All the same we were in the midst of a foreign 
and not wholly friendly people. I judged it best, then, 
to leave my quarters well prepared to guard my life. 
Old Nicholas Mauran, who was very fond of me, had 
some days before solemnly made me a present of a 
small, beautifully finished pistol that could be easily 
carried in one’s pocket. This weapon I loaded and 
primed very carefully, and thrust it into the breast of 
my jacket. Thus armed, with my saber at my side, of 
course, our troopers never thinking of laying aside 
that weapon, I felt amply competent to take care of 
myself 

I was hovering about the cathedral some minutes 
ahead of the appointed time. As the clocks of the city 
chimed the half-hour a figure wrapped in an ample 
cloak of dark cloth approached me and seized my 
wrist. 

“ Venez," it said in French, and I knew from the 
voice that the mantle held a woman. Without hesita- 
tion I followed her guidance. 

Down the street she hurried me for a couple of blocks, 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE I43 

then turned to the left and urg^ed me on more rapidly, 
hastening along the Corso di Porta Romana. 

Presently we left the street and passed into the hall 
of a tall, gloomy-appearing mansion whose sullen front 
gave forth no ray of light to indicate that human beings 
dwelt there. 

Across this hall and up the wide staircase of marble 
that led to the second floor my guide led me so swiftly 
that I had no chance to take note of the surroundings, 
The only article I marked was a bronze statue of Cupid 
that stood at the foot of the stairs, holding a lamp with 
a rose-colored shade above his curly head. After we 
reached the story above we turned to the right and 
made some steps along a hallway that was dimly 
and uncertainly illuminated by a great lamp with 
low-turned wick that hung from the ceiling at its en- 
trance. 

A pair of heavy curtains barred our progress. My 
guide parted them and pushed me forward, halting at 
the same time and closing their velvet folds behind 
me. I took a step forward, then stood still, almost 
dazzled by the brilliant glare of light that had succeeded 
to the dusk of the hall. 

I had entered a boudoir possessing a wealth of luxury 
in its appointments that up to that time I had never 
before witnessed. The room was built in the form 
of an octagon. Directly opposite to me a huge mirror 
of Venetian glass occupied one entire side, reaching 
from floor to ceiling. To its right, as I faced it, the 
wall was painted in a brilliant-hued fresco of Jupiter 
and Europa. The next division depicted a superb 
Leda with the swan in her lap. To her succeeded 
Danae lying in the golden shower. Behind me a thick 
portiere of dark blue velvet concealed the door through 
which I had come. On the wall beyond it a jolly 
satyr peered through a screen of thickets at a beautiful 
woman who lay asleep amid clustering flowers of the 
forest. The two remaining panels were covered by 
portieres of blue velvet lined with gold, like the one I 
have before described. That to the left of the mirror 
was tightly closed. Through the open folds of the other 
I could see the voluptuous adornments and snowy 
couch of a brilliantly lighted bedroom. 

A thick velvet carpet, likewise dark blue, covered the 


144 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


floor. On the ceiling a host of laughing Bacchantes 
danced and frolicked with rosy, golden-haired cupids. 
Luxurious arm-chairs stood about and there was a 
great sofa, all upholstered in blue velvet. In the center 
of the room a small table held a dainty supper for two ; 
long-necked straw-wrapped flasks stood upon its cloth 
of damasked linen and in addition I recognized several 
bottles of our own vm tie champagne. Not that I cared 
greatly for them. Burgundy is the wine I relish. But 
seen here by the side of the shining china and polished 
silver it made one feel that he was among friends. 

All these beautiful things I had little time to wonder 
over. Through the curtains of the sleeping apartment 
my divinity of the cathedral, the lovely Favorita, came 
swiftly to greet me, holding out both her hands. 
Beside her the magnificence of the room sunk into 
nothing. Sapristi! How grand was the loveliness of 
that woman ! 

The masses of her abundant brown hair were rolled 
high on her head and held in place by clasps that 
blazed with jewels. Great diamonds flashed in her 
little ears, a necklace of the same precious gems flamed 
about her snowy throat that needed not their gleams 
to enhance its beauty. Her eyes shone like twin 
stars, her scarlet, full-lipped mouth curved in an 
enchanting smile that formed bewitching dimples in 
her soft cheeks. A laugh of satisfaction she gave as 
she extended to me her small, rose-tipped fingers, 
revealed two rows of even, beautifully white teeth. 

Apparently she had just come from the theater, for 
she wore her costume of the ballet, a sleeveless, low- 
necked bodice of glistening silk displaying in all their 
glory the matchless charms of her magnificent shoul- 
ders, her chest, broad, full, dazzling as polished marble, 
and nigh half the proportions of her glowing bosom. 
Bracelets ofVenetian gold were clasped upon the firm, 
rounded arms in whose embrace the joys of Paradise 
might well be held of little value compared to those 
they promised. 

The skirt of gauze, creamy white, with the folds of 
its gossamer fabric accentuated rather than concealed 
the curves of those limbs that in their flashing silken 
tights never failed to draw forth the enthusiastic 
^^bravas” of all who saw her dance. Thus Favorita 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


M5 

came to me, a living, breathing incarnation of all the 
charms that can allure the senses. Before her intoxi- 
cating presence my brain reeled, the world for the time 
held for me this woman alone. 

And yet she did not touch my heart. Even as she 
crossed the floor a swift remembrance of the Lady 
Aliandra stirred within me, a sense of the boundless 
superiority possessed by the simply-clad, virtuous girl 
who had preserved my life at the risk of her own rep- 
utation, but a few evenings previous, over the sensu- 
ously handsome, wondrously radiant Southern woman 
whose great brown eyes now rested so kindly upon 
my enraptured face. 

The co7itessa had repelled the love of the peasant. 
As I remembered that, the fingers of La Favorita 
clasped my hands. At their touch the blood coursed 
in my veins like liquid fire and I forgot all else save 
her. 

“ At last you have come, my gallant little sabreur” 
she cried. “Ah! how eagerly 1 have looked for 
you 1 ” 

I gave her no reason to think that I had not been 
impatient also. A thorough chasseur I was that night ! 

“Those kisses will do beautifully for the present,” 
the lady observed at length with a merry peal of 
laughter. “ Let me give you some supper now. O, 

I know how to appeal to the hearts of men, especially 
soldiers. 'The nearest pass is always through their 
stomachs.” 

In vain I protested that I was not hungry. She 
forced me into a chair at the table, heaped my plate 
with viands and filled my glass to the brim. 

“There!” she cried after she had helped herself 
with much greater moderation. “ Now we are com- 
fortably situated and we can talk at our leisure as 
we eat. You did not suspect, at this hour last night, 
how soon you would be the guest of La Favorita, did 
you .? ” 

“Frankly, I did not dare to hope for such hap- 
piness,” I returned. “Though I lay awake for many 
hours and found it impossible to sleep for thoughts of 
you.” 

“ You would not believe me if I told you that I had 
the same experience,” she said slowly. ‘‘But never- 
10 


146 THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 

theless it is true. Your face of an angel affected me 
strangely when I saw it in the cathedral, with its 
golden hair and great blue eyes. I like your eyes, 
they are very handsome, I can tell you.” 

“To speak of yours, signorma, I feel would be a 
vain task for me to attempt,” I answered. “ I could 
not find fitting words.” 

“Don't attempt it then,” she smiled. “ Let us 
rather talk of yourself. “ Ah, but you are a charming 
boy ! and I know that you and I are going to be great 
friends. You will come to see me very often .? ” 

“As often as you will permit me, signorina," I said 
warmly. “My only fear is that you will grow tired 
of seeing me.” 

“You need not dread that, my gallant little chas- 
seur,'' she retorted. “My heart has conceived a feel- 
ing for you that I cannot explain, it is so singular. 
For you are but a boy, after all, with your smooth 
face and innocent expression. Who to look at you 
would think for a moment that you killed Rossovi- 
conti ? ” 

“You know that, then, signorina I demanded. 

Of course. The fool came here every day and I 
was tired to death of his visits. It was a relief not to 
see his face this morning. You must have had a fine 
instructor in your rapier play. They used to call Ros- 
soviconti one of the best in the schools of Milan.” 

“There are fair swordsmen among the soldiers of 
France, signorina," I said modestly. 

“ You say that as if their equals could not be found,” 
she laughed. “Don’t deceive yourself, my young 
fire-eater. There are fencers in Italy before whom the 
best of your army would lower his crest.” 

“As yet I have not heard of them, signorina" I ob- 
served. “ Where are they to be found.? ” 

“ One of them you may stand some chance of meet- 
ing soon, for I hear that your regiment is to be sent 
against the Barbets. If that happens, my friend, avoid 
a certain one of their leaders, for my sake. If you would 
not have me go into mourning, and I should do that 
if you died, shun the Count Luca Campogiacinto. ” 

“ Count Luca !” I exclaimed. “What! is the man 
of your acquaintance, signorina ?" 

“Indeed, I know him very well,” laughed La Favo- 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


147 

rita. “ His name seems familiar to you also. What do 
you know of him ?” 

“ We have met,” I smiled. “As for keeping clear 
of him I have already promised that. I gave my word 
to a man whom it will be decidedly unhealthy for the 
count to meet.” 

“ You mean Her face became eager as she bent 
forward for my reply. 

“Simply that one of the best men that ever handled 
sword has sworn to have a bout with the Count Luca. 
The count will never tell of the affair, signorina.’' 

“ Then you think your comrade will conquer .? ” 

“ I am positive.” 

“Heaven grant it!” she said earnestly. “Many 
there are who would feel easier were Count Luca dead. 

I am one of them. No matter why. But come, I 
see that you eat nothing. Drink then, I will help 
you. ” 

The wine was of the finest vintages and there was a 
variety to choose from. 

I drew my chair closer to La Favorita’s. 

“What do your friends, your very best friends, call 
you.?” she asked. “I would know the name, so that 
I may say it to you also.” 

“The men of the squadron call me Sans-barbe,” I 
replied. 

“Sans-barbe,” she murmured, and I swear that the 
title I had so often found unpleasant sounded sweet 
when heard in her soft accents. “Sans-barbe! Ah, 
but I don’t like that! Come to the sofa yonder, and 
let me tell you what / shall call you.” 

The sofa was far more comfortable than the chairs 
we had vacated. La Favorita placed her hands on my 
shoulders and held me off at arm’s length, gazing long 
and earnestly into my face. A mist seemed to be 
gathering over her glorious brown eyes, while in their 
depths a strange fire flickered and smoldered. All of 
sudden it burst into flame. With a fierce, uncontrol- 
lable, impetuous movement she drew me toward her 
and placed her trembling lips to my ear. 

“Amor mw!” she panted. Amor mio ! That is 
the name I have found for you, carissimo ! Amor, 
amor mio ! ” 

The portieres that veiled the entrance from the halb 


148 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


way suddenly waved and gave passage to the form of 
the woman who had led me thither. 

'' Signoriiia!” she exclaimed, and then paused as if 
aware that she was undoubtedly de irop. 

The remarks I made at this moment I will not write 
down. They were expressive, some of the things 
chasseurs were wont to say in the days of the Republic. 

“What is it, Perdita.!*" the beautiful woman by my 
side demanded. 

Her confidante signed to her that what she had to 
say was not for my ear. They conversed earnestly in 
whispers for a few seconds. 

Then the sig7iorina rushed to me, caught me vehe- 
mently by the arm and with a “ make haste” that ad- 
mitted of no demur on my part urged me across the 
room and through the curtain that I have mentioned 
as closed. With a whispered caution to remain quiet 
she sprang back into the boudoir, leaving me in the 
dark. Not quite in the dark either. A thin stream of 
light showed at the division of the portiere. Noise- 
lessly I moved until my cheek rested against the vel- 
vet, and looked curiously into the room. 

A man clad in a dusty and travel-stained uniform 
had just entered. As my eyes rested on his face I 
came near betraying my presence by a cry of«urprise. 
The newcomer was General Bonaparte ! 


CHAPTER XIX. 

A NIGHT WITH BONAPARTE. 

“Ah, it is then, Citizen General,” La Favorita 
said, as Bonaparte approached and bent to kiss her 
beautiful fingers. “Your visit to me is an unlooked- 
for surprise. I had thought you to be still at Verona.” 

“ I ivas there at ten o'clock this morning, ma helled' 
the general replied, “but pressing affairs called me 
thence to Milan, and believe me, I blessed the oppor- 
tunity thus given me to gaze once more upon your 
lovely face.” 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


149 


Ignoring his compliment the signorina exclaimed, 
“You were in Verona at ten o’clock this morning! 
And I see you in Milan now ! Truly you are a hard 
rider, Citizen General 1 Such a rate of traveling is 
almost incredible.” 

“Not when one has excellent relays and plenty of 
them,” Bonaparte laughed. “Thanks to the King of 
Sardinia and the Dukes of Parma and Modena I am 
well provided in the matter of horse-flesh.” 

“The King of Sardinia and the Duke of Parma have 
been kind to you in other matters than horses, Citizen 
General,” the smiled meaningly. “There is 

a great deal more gold in the pockets of all yon 
Frenchmen than they held before you came to Italy, 
eh .? ” 

“ As is but natural,” the Corsican said coolly. “ Vae 
victis, you know. Not ih^iyou should have any fault 
to find with us, my fair friend. Our presence in 
iMilan has certainly not caused j/ow to grow poorer.” 

La Favorita hither lip and favored him with a flasli 
of her great eyes, to which he seemed to pay no at- 
tention. His glance was occupied with the supper- 
table and the two chairs that were standing so close 
together. 

“I trust my visit has put you to no inconvenience, 
)na belle” he observed. “You know that I would 
not for the world disarrange plans of yours, yet, from 
what I see, I fear that you were entertaining guests 
whom my coming has caused to depart. A guest, 
rather, I should say, for I see but one chair beside your 
own at the table.” 

‘ ‘ Guests ! Indeed no, nor a guest either, ” La Favorita 
answered negligently. “To-day happens to be the 
fete of my good old Perdita, and I thought that to 
make a little supper in her honor would please her. I 
am very fond of her, my faithful Perdita. And you 
know, Citizen General, that the smallest attentions have 
great weight with the aged. We had but just ended 
our repast and Perdita had left the room for a moment 
to go and look for Caro when she noticed your approach 
and hastened back to announce you.” 

If General Bonaparte did not wholly believe the 
story of La Favorita, he gave no sign of incredulity 
“I am sorry to hear that you have finished your sup- 


150 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


per,” he said simply, “ I am ravenous as a wolf of the 
Apenines myself. I rode into Milan scarce an hour 
ago and went direct to the quartier general. There, 
after I had given a few necessary orders, 1 managed to 
slip away — to you. Since I left Veronal have had no 
refreshment. ” 

“Oh, there is plenty left from which you can ap- 
pease your wolf of an appetite. Citizen General,” 
smiled La Favorita. “That is, if you do not object to 
eating after Perdita and me. Indeed, some of the 
dishes have not been touched. There is a fricassee 
of chicken still intact, I observe, and I know that is 
one of your favorites. En avant, my hero, show the 
viands no more grace than you do the Austrians.” 

“But will you not take the other chair, ma belle 
the general asked as he sat down. “Surely you are 
not going to let me eat alone. That were the height of 
inhospitali+y, my Favorita, and you would never have 
the heart to be so cruel to me I ” 

The voice of Bonaparte >^ms peculiarly soft and win- 
ning when he desired it. His eyes, as he looked at 
the lovely signorina, had lost their steely expression 
and were full of entreaty. 

“I have already supped, and I much prefer the sofa,” 
she returned, dropping gracefully upon its luxuriantly 
yielding cushions. “I can talk to you from here just 
as well. Citizen General, and, to tell you the truth, you 
are not desirable as a near acquaintance to-night. You 
have been on horseback in the sun and dust for most 
of the day, remember. Pardon me if I confess that 
the odor of those great cavalry boots you are wearing 
has made my head ache.” 

The Commander-in-Chief frowned savagely as she 
finished speaking, and for some moments he did not 
reply. Instead he set to work on his supper, drawing 
the silver dish that held the chicken to him and de- 
vouring its contents with evident satisfaction. He ate 
rapidly and greedily, using his fingers to convey the 
food to his mouth. At times he paused to wipe them 
on the handsome linen cloth that covered the table. 
Finally he mumbled out with his mouth full : 

“ I envy you, ma belle. Your knows his trade, 
and you are fortunate in possessing him.” 

“I am glad you find his cookery to your taste, 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 151 

Citizen General. I fancied that you were not relishing 
the chicken,” La Favorita said somewhat dryly. 

“ Far from it. 'Tis delicious, I assure you. Still he 
would have greatly improved it had he made it with 
an onion sauce. Nothing goes with chicken so well as 
onions, ’ the Corsican declared, reaching out for more. 

The dancer gave a little shiver of disgust, which the 
general did not notice. He had placed himself at the 
table so that his back was toward the door of the bed- 
room. The signoriiia, on the sofa, was on his left. 
Though, as I have said, there was wine in abundance 
on the board before him he scarcely touched it, taking 
only a modest sip now and then. But he made up for 
his abstinence from the cup by the way he punished 
the eatables. As La Favorita had suggested, he was 
showing them no more mercy than he had evinced 
toward the hostile armies he had broken to fragments. 

“ And how did you leave matters in the field. Citizen 
General?” the lady inquired presently. “Though 
I need scarcely ask that ; for all must be going favor- 
ably for the French since you are at liberty to return 
to Milan?” 

“Yes, ma belle, you are not wrong in saying that,” 
Bonaparte answered. “ Victory still smiles on the tri- 
color, and my brave soldiers have covered themselves 
witli glory. We have driven Monsieur Beaulieu out of 
Italy into the mountains again, and we hold Mantua 
harmless by blockade.” 

“And what of my friends among your officers, 
Citizen General?” demanded La Favorita. “ I trust 
that none of them have been killed or wounded. Flow 
is that dear General Berthier? And General Lannes, 
too, whom I like very much in spite of his abrupt ways ? 
and that fascinating man Murat, your aide-de-camp? 
And that hot-head Junot ? ” 

“All those of whom you speak are yet alive,” the 
General replied a shade impatiently. “Berthier and 
Lannes you may see to-morrow, for I brought them 
both with me.” 

“And what has caused you such a hasty journey to 
Milan ?” La Favorita asked curiously. 

At this moment a small, silky-haired spaniel trotted 
through the curtains from the hall and made at once 
for the table, attracted by the smell of the food. 


152 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


“ Ah, there he is at last ! Perdita must have looked 
everywhere for him except the proper place/’ the s/g- 
norina cried. “Caro, my own Caro, come hither at 
once.” 

But Caro, his tail wagging vigorously and his eyes 
fixed on General Bonaparte, refused to obey the com- 
mand of his mistress. Weighed with the contents of 
the table, in his doggy mind, her attractions were want- 
ing. 

“ Caro possesses more discernment than you do, via 
belle” the Corsican laughed, flinging a greasy bit of 
meat on the carpet for the expectant dog. He 
doesn’t find my riding-boots objectionable.” 

Caro bolted it on the instant and begged for more. 
The lady smiled bitterly. 

“Like most of his sex he fawns where he expects 
favors,” she sneered. “ But you have not yet told me 
why you left Verona. ” 

“All the fault of the way your governments are con- 
ducted here in Italy, via belle” BonajDarte averred. 
“Feeble and vacillating as they are in their policy 
with foreign nations, they are worse in their dealings 
with their own citizens. Here are a number of dis- 
contented nobles and cashiered officers from the armies 
of Naples, Genoa and Turin who have raised bands 
of contemptible troops that they called ‘ Barbets ’ and 
are at work doing me all the evil in their power. To 
my complaints to the nations wherein their outrages 
have been committed I have had but one answer, ‘that 
they deeply deplore these deeds, but the state of Italy 
and the hostility of the people to officers of the law 
renders it impossible for them to apprehend the per- 
petrators.’ I have grown tired of hearing such replic's 
to my demands, ma belle, and I have come back to 
Milan for the purpose of taking measures that will rid 
me of those Barbets once for all.” 

“And -how will you accomplish that.?” the lady 
asked, slowly waving a great fan she had caught up. 

“How.?” the General said in a sudden burst of 
anger. ''Par Dieu ! very easily. I’ll send Lannes 
against them. He settled their affair at Binasco and 
Pavia. He’ll make a progress through the fiefs of the 
empire that won’t be forgotten for a decade ! 

“I demand your pardon, via belle ” he continued. 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


153 


after a pause of some moments. “I feel that I have 
spoken with perhaps more warmth than I should have 
done. But you cannot know how these uprisings of 
the peasants irritate the commander of an army. Ill- 
advised and powerless to do him any great harm, they 
are still calculated to cause him much annoyance. The 
only way he can deal with them is to employ the 
harshest measures, and stamp them out at once in blood 
and fire. And even though he be hardened to war, 
the needless waste of so many lives by them that 
should know better must make him suffer in spirit." 

“Then you call General Lannes the ‘harshest meas- 
ure ’ I suppose, Citizen General," La Favorita observed, 
“for you speak of him as the man you will employ to 
quell the Barbets. " 

“Lannes will be no pleasant dose for them at all 
events," Bonaparte said with a grim smile. “He 
always carries out his orders to the letter. 

“ But apropos of the Barbets, my lovely Favorita," 
he resumed abruptly, “there is a matter in connec- 
tion with them in which your aid would be of great 
service to me. Part of my errand here to you to-night 
was to ask it. May I count upon your assistance t " 

“My aid ! and in reference to the Barbets ! " the 
stg7iorma exclciimediw wide-eyed astonishment. 

“The case is very simple," the Coniimander-in-Chief 
began in persuasive tones. “Among the leaders of 
those banditti there is one who has shown himself ex- 
cessively forward and active in his operations against 
my detachments. No other one of the Barbet chiefs 
has caused the Republic greater losses than he has, no 
other one has been more enterprising and cruel. He was 
a moving spirit among those who incited the insurrec- 
tion that I put down by setting Binasco ablaze and 
giving Pavia up to pillage. After those events he fled 
to the mountains and gathered around him the most 
desperate of all their companies. He has more than 
ordinary ability and joins to it some military training, 
for he held a commission as captain in the Sardinian 
cavalry. From the cunning and good judgment he 
has displayed in what he has done, I fear he can 
be taken by no ordinary methods. He knows the 
country far too well for my horsemen to hope to trap 
him, and we are positive that he has friends in the 


54 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


the cities and towns who keep him well informed. 
Difficult as the task will be, he must be taken or killed. 
And on the word of Napoleon Bonaparte one or other 
shall be done ! ” 

“His name.?” La Favorita asked in a voice that 
was scarcely more than a whisper. 

“Count Luca di Campogiacinto,’' the general re- 
plied. “ It is a name you have heard before, via belle, 
I am sure.” 

“Yes, I have heard it before,” the lovely dancer 
echoed. “The Count Luca ! you will have to catch 
him before you kill him, Citizen General. 

“And ]wsi there is where I wish you to help me,” 
Bonaparte said eagerly ; “ you can give me invaluable 
aid.” 

“/give you aid ! and how.? ” demanded La Favo- 
rita. 

“In this way, via belle) you and Count Luca were 
at one time the best of friends. Don’t endeavor to 
contradict me, I know what I am talking about. For 
you to communicate with him will be a simple matter, 
you know numberless means by which a letter could 
reach him. Write to him, then, tell him that through 
your acquaintance with those highest in authority 
among the French you have come into possession of 
most important information regarding their plans. 
State that you hold documents obtained from me with- 
out my knowledge that will bring their weight many 
times over in gold at the court of Austria. Offer to 
hand them to the Count on condition that you both 
share the proceeds. Obtain a rendezvous with him 
and lure him into the hands of my troopers. There ! 
nothing of the impossible in that, I hope. The Count 
will come gladly, never fear. If he be mortal man he 
can’t have forgotten yonv beaux yeux and will risk much 
to look into them once more.” 

“ Have you finished, Citizen General ? ” the Italienne 
said in a voice that trembled strangely. 

“Quite finished, ma belle. Ah, I forgot one thing, 
the Republic will pay you superbly for your services. 
Trust me to see to that.” 

“Silence, General Bonaparte,” La Favorita cried, 
her eyes blazing and her bosom heaving with anger. 
“I will not do the thing you ask me ! Your offer of 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


155 


money shows how low you hold me. But you have 
made a mistake, my little Corsican. Learn this, and 
in learning it know La Favorita as she is. Your money 
can buy many things, but it cannot buy my soul ! 
For all the millions of Italy that you have plundered I 
would not stoop to such an act of treachery. I have no 
love for Luca Campogiacinto, but I would die rather than 
betray him ! " 

“Then you refuse Bonaparte calmly asked. 

“ Yes, a thousand times, yes ! ” the dancer repeated. 

No shade of surprise or displeasure crossed the gen- 
eral’s marble countenance. 

“Don’t be so furious, ma belief he said, smiling 
slightly. “Indeed I had supposed that you had no 
interest in the man now or I should not have made you 
the proposal. I thought you had long since ceased to 
care for him." 

“I do not care for him," the girl answered, her lovely 
lips curling with scornful denial. 

“Are you sure 1 Hard indeed to fathom is the heart 
of woman. She herself can rarely be sure of her feel- 
ings," the general laughed, drawing toward him a 
small dish of sweetmeats. 

After picking idly among them for a few moments he 
remarked in a suggestive tone : “ My ride from Verona 
was a weary one, belle, and I feel terribly fatigued. 
Will you pardon me if I venture to intimate that repose 
would be grateful to me t " 

“ No one wishes to prevent your returning to your 
quarters, Citizen General," the lady responded with 
irritating unconsciousness. 

Again Bonaparte frowned and his lips closed tightly 
together. But he did not rise to depart. Ignoring her 
obvious hint he lay back in his chair and busied him- 
self once more with the candied fruits before him. 

“I have not asked you how you have spent your 
time since my leaving Milan, ma belief he said pres- 
ently. “I can pretty well surmise, in fact. Setting 
the hearts of men afire with your beauty and laughing 
to yourself as you see them act the part of fools. That 
is how you have amused yourself, nest-ce pas, belle 
Favoriia ? " 

“ Perhaps. I haven’t written down a list of my daily 
doings," she answered with a faint sneer. “Had I 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


156 

known you wished it of course I would have done 
so.” 

"‘You ought to be more careful though, ma chere, if 
you will permit me to criticise your conduct,” the gen- 
eral averred, passing over her reply without comment 
“You use those great eyes of yours innocently 
enough, without doubt, and you don’t pause to think 
of what may come to pass in consequence. If you 
pictured to yourself the sorrow and misery little deeds 
of coquetry such as you sometimes practise are apt 
to cause, I am sure you would think twice about 
rousing the passions of men and setting their hearts 
ablaze.” 

“/cause sorrow and misery } ” La Favorita pouted. 
“Really, you are incomprehensible to-night. Citizen 
General. They must have taught you at Verona to 
speak in riddles ! ” 

“You know well what I mean,” Bonaparte replied 
sternly. “A pretty story I had to listen to at head- 
quarters. One of the noblest and most influential 
families in Milan is sunk in grief and mourning, and 
all on your account.” 

“Truly ! I should feel flattered, I suppose,” the sig- 
norina smiled. “ I was unaware that the existence of 
so humble a person as myself was of interest enough 
to our nobility to cause them to waste a thought 
on me. What have I done now to give them sorrowful 
hearts .? ” 

“Lay aside this foolery, it is unworthy of you, 
Favorita,” the General said, severely “Your pretended 
ignorance of my meaning will not serve you. You 
cannot but acknowledge that you brought about the 
duel that resulted in the death of young Signor Rosso- 
viconti.” 

“ Rossoviconti I Ah, I understand you at last. But 
why should you imagine that / was concerned in what 
befell him ? Bah 1 Citizen General, they have been 
telling you lies. ’Tis true that the man's attentions 
bored me, but they did not rouse sufficient interest in 
my heart to cause me to desire his death,” La Favorita 
asserted. 

“What! would you have me believe that you did 
not incite by your beauty one of my soldiers to pick a 
quiirrel with your unwelcome adorer, in order to rid 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


15; 

you of his hated presence?'’ sneered Bonaparte. 
“ That is what his family allege against you, at all 
events, and those whom 1 have questioned swear to 
the same tale." 

'Tis false. Citizen General," replied the dancer sav- 
agely. “ The affair happened thus. I saw your young 
chasseur m the cathedral, and I do not deny that I smiled 
upon him, for his face took my fancy. When he would 
have followed me afterAvard in the street I gave him a 
sign forbidding him to do so. Rossoviconti happened 
to see it and was jealous. He insulted your soldier, who 
requited him with the sword-thrust he so well merited. 
That is the whole affair." 

“ Then the matter has been greatly misrepresented 
to me," the general said in mollified accents. 

“As you stale it I cannot see that you are to be 
blamed. Still, rna belle, I hope that this will be a 
lesson to you and that you will pay heed in the future 
to the warnings I have so often given you about the 
way you carry yourself in public. True, it was no 
harm that you smiled upon the chasseur. But see what 
that smile has done. Because you looked pleasantly 
into a face that attracted you for the moment, one of 
the nobles of your city lies dead at his home, and the 
Army of Italy will lose a soldier whose brief record has 
shown that in the future he might have done great 
deeds. " 

“The last part of what you have said is not clear to 
me, Citizen General," La Favorita pouted. “ I know 
Rossoviconti is no more, but how happens it that the 
Army of Italy will lose a soldier ? ” 

“The family of the dead noble possess much influ- 
ence here in Milan," Bonaparte rejoined. “They 
have besought me to do justice upon his murderer, 
and I cannot pass over their claims. Therefore the 
chasseurs-d-cheval of Damremont will have to parade 
in hollow square for the benefit of the regiment’s 
youngest sergeant.” 

Imagine my sensations as I stood behind the cur- 
tains and listened to the words that fell so heartlessly 
from the lips of the commander-in-chief. Parbleu I I 
can assure you that he spoke of the execution of 
Georges Luc with no more feeling than he would have 
displayed about the death of the chickens that had 


158 THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 

been slain to furnish the dish he had so greatly appre- 
ciated some moments before. 

If /understood him La Favorita did not. 

“A strange way of satisfying the friends of Rossovi- 
conti ! ” she observed. “ How can it please them to 
parade the sergeant s regiment ? ” 

“In hollow square, I said, ma belle,'' the general 
corrected. “That’s the way we form men now for a 
military execution.” 

Then at last the dancer comprehended. 

“An execution 1" she cried. Dio niio, Citizen Gen- 
eral, you cannot mean that ! you could never be so 
cruel as to have him shot, that lovely boy ! ” 

“ Sacr'e I What is this that I hear ! ” Bonaparte said 
with astonishment. “The news seems to affect you 
strangely. Perhaps there was more in the story than 
you have acknowledged. Yes, ma belle, that is just 
what I am going to do. I intend to have him shot, that 
lovely boy." 

“I do not believe you,” the signorina protested. 
“Such a thing would be inhuman. You cannot 
know him. Citizen General, this young sergeant. 
Though he is a sous~officier\\Q is but a boy, a mere child 
in fact.” 

“I cannot know him, eh!” the general returned. 
“Indeed, Favorita, I know him very well. He is a 
perfect young imp of Satan, young Luc, and of a type 
that I would willingly weed out of my army. Though 
he has the charming expression of an innocent child, 
at heart that boy is a regular rake-hell, always on the 
lookout for a broil and anxious to display his skill with 
the sword ; if he were permitted to live he would spoil 
‘many a French uniform. They tell me he once defied 
his superior officer and run a comrade through the 
body for the sake of a pair of bright eyes — ere he saw 
yours, ma chere. The only virtue he possesses is 
his bravery. I believe him to be absolutely without 
fear.” 

“But he must not die,” La Favorita insisted. “I 
will not have it so. Spare him for my sake, Citizen 
General.” 

“You are as bad as Lannes,” he said, laughing. 
“ He fancies the boy also, and almost threatened me 
when I said that the youngster should be shot. What 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 1 59 

I refused to his oaths I cannot grant to your entreaties, 
ma belle. Sergeant Luc must die.” 

But the signorina would not be discouraged. She 
protested and implored in my behalf, urging every 
argument, good or bad, that occurred to her, and 
bringing into play all the power of her wonderful 
beauty. To all her appeals the general returned only 
smiles and negative movements of his head, lying back 
at ease in his chair while he watched with pleasure the 
expressive play of her handsome features. 

As I listened, my thoughts were by no means cheer- 
ful. True, I was not ill-pleased to learn that General 
Lannes — he got the grade after we took Pavia — w^as so 
well disposed toward me. And to hear tlie adorable 
Favorita’s soft voice trembling as she begged mercy 
for me from Bonaparte, was sweet indeed. Yet there 
rose in my breast no hope of pardon as I watched the 
unyielding, iron countenance of the man to whom her 
plea was made. Behind it I could plainly see the ac- 
curately aligned platoon and the sullen black muzzles 
of the leveled carbines looking me in the face. Par 
Dieul they should not bandage my eyes, though! 
Thai I swore to myself as I turned them impatiently 
from the visage of him who held my life between his 
plump, white fingers. 

My glance happened to fall upon the signorinas 
spaniel Caro, who still sat beside the general's chair. 
Some object in the direction of the bedroom had at- 
tracted the little brute’s attention. He was sitting up 
on his haunches waving his tail and pricking up his 
ears, his gaze fastened on the curtains of the room to 
my right. 

Cautiously I moved until I could see what had 
caught his notice. In the door of the sleeping-chamber 
a pallid, fierce-eyed man was standing, his whole atti- 
tude reminding me of a wild beast in the act to spring. 
His face was advanced beyond the shadow cast by the 
curtains, and its features, handsome and striking, de- 
spite their whiteness and the fire that flamed in the 
large dark eyes, I knew on the instant. Between those 
folds of velvet. Count Luca Campogiacinto glared at 
the unheeding figures of General Bonaparte and La 
Favorita. 

Even as I looked the Barbet chieftain covered in 


l6o THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 

one great bound the space that separated him from the 
commander-in-chief and grasped the general by the 
shoulders. A crash followed as the table was overset 
and the chair hurled violently aside. Then, as a 
shriek from the signorina sounded through the room, 
Bonaparte lay flat upon the carpet, the knee of Count 
Luca pressing his chest, the long nervous fingers of the 
Italian at his throat. 

“Stop that noise ! ” the Barbet cried savagely to La 
Favorita. If you utter another cry Fll strangle him 
before help can possibly arrive.’’ 

Although the count’s tone was furious, he was 
plainly master of himself and perfectly cool and col- 
lected. 

So, I am bound to say, was General Bonaparte. 
With admirable calmness he spoke, seconding the 
caution of the man who held him powerless upon the 
floor. 

“You had better follow the instructions of your ac- 
complice, via belle," he said. ‘‘Your trap was most 
excellently set, but since it has been sprung with such 
success, you need not exert yourself to carry your part 
farther. You cannot deceive me, Favorita, although I 
know that for all Ike millions I have wrung from Italy, 
you would not stoop to such an act of treachery." 

His words made Count Luca start. He had not 
known the man whom he had overthrown until the 
general spoke. Eagerly he scanned the face of Bona- 
parte, and then he uttered a malicious laugh. 

“ By the mass ! ” he cried, “here’s a greater piece of 
luck than I had looked for. The leader of the French 
armies in person! I offer you my most respectful 
salutations. Citizen General. As to what you have 
just said to the lady,” he went on, “you are wronging 
her. She didn’t expect my visit, on my word of honor. 
We used to know each other very well, you see, and 
I haven’t forgotten the way to reach her presence 
without passing through the street entrance. Wishing 
to speak to her on important affairs to-night, I be- 
thought myself of the old path I used to follow. I 
was delighted to find that the private door and the 
staircase still exist. So now you will understand how 
I chanced to come through the bedroom.” 

“So that is the way affairs stand. Well, my dear 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


l6l 


signor, as you happen to be merely an old friend of our 
charming hostess, and as you saw that when you 
made your appearance she was entertaining another 
visitor, don’t you think that to assault me as you have 
done was rude and inconsiderate conduct on your part ? 
I give you my word that the lady can spare you no 
time this evening. Therefore you had better permit 
me to rise, and be off about your business. You can 
find your way out as readily as you found your way 
in,” Bonaparte coolly suggested. 

Count Luca laughed. 

Pas si hete, mon petit general,'' h.Q chuckled. “Its 
evident from your speech that you have no idea as to 
who I am.” 

“Of that, I am as yet in ignorance,” the general an- 
swered, ‘ ‘ But I shall be delighted to learn your name, 
I assure you.” 

“Yes, in order to put a price upon my head, eh, 
general.? ” sneered the count. “ You may spare your- 
self the troul)le, that you have attended to already. 
For days your placards have been posted concerning 
me, and the hands of your soldiers itch to clutch the 
gold that would reward my capture. General Bona- 
parte, I am Luca di Campogiacinto. ” 

The Commander-in-Chief started as he heard the 
Barbet chieftain’s name, and then I fear that his tem- 
per got the better of him. He began to struggle, 
exclaiming at the same time: “You scoundrel, let me 
rise ! ” 

La Favorita, half-fainting, had fallen back upon the 
sofa. 

Count Luca easily foiled the general's efforts to free 
himself 

“No, General Bonaparte,” he cried triumphantly, 
“ I will never let you rise ! When you leave this room 
you will be carried out ! You have had a glorious 
dream, my young God of Victory, but it is going to 
end here. Instead of the volumes you have hoped to 
occupy in history a single page shall be your lot. 
That will suffice to tell the story of your Italian con- 
quests. A brilliant theatrical drama you have made 
of them. You have walked the stage to the accom- 
paniment of music raised by the shrieks of widowed 
women, by the cries of orphaned children. But the 
II 


164 the gift of BONAPARTE 

plans you have laid for me, I am sure, general,’’ he 
sneered presently. “You have no course but to allow 
me to go free. Fou dare not act otherwise I Madame 
la Generate will set out for Milan as fast as horses can 
bring her when she learns the happenings of to-night. 
A quiet domestic life is worth a trifle of forbearance, 
my little Corsican.” 

With an impatient gesture Bonaparte waved his 
hand toward the bedroom. 

“Go, signor, by the same way you came in,” he 
said angrily. “I spare you till I catch you outside a 
lady’s boudoir.” 

At this the count grinned. Then, unhindered by 
me, he moved swiftly across the room to the door of 
the sleeping-chamber. Upon the threshold he paused, 
wheeled suddenly in his tracks and faced us once 
more. 

“You may expect news of me ere long,” he cried 
insolently, “ for I frankly tell you that I go hence to 
work you all the damage in my power. Your con- 
voys and your small parties of convalescents shall 
receive my best attentions. General Bonaparte. Some 
of them will never reach Milan. And yet you dare not 
stop me ! I will fight the French until I die, do you 
hear! Tvvas 1 who made the peasants rise against 
your army 1 I and my cousin roused the mountaineers 
in your rear ! My cousin, la Co?itessa Aliandra, whose 
painoiisiti has set the Alps on fire against you I ” 

I sprang forward, but Count Luca dashed through 
the bedroom and was gone ere I could reach him. 
Sullenly I came back to the Commander-in-Chief, curs- 
ing in my heart the diabolical cunning of the wily 
Piedmontese, whose artful mention of the name of his 
exquisite cousin in the presence of the Corsican was 
certain to bring upon her the resentment of one who 
paused at no extremity of ruthlessness in his punish- 
ments of those who menaced the safety of his army. In 
fancy I could already see the name of the beauteous 
Aliandra placarded in the streets, for though Bonaparte 
said nothing he would remember. 

“ And now. Sergeant Luc, we have no further busi- 
ness here,” the general said sharply, “Come, you will 
accompany me back to the quartier-ghihal. 

“But the lady, mon general,” I remonstrated, point- 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 165 

ing to the sofa that held the lov^ely form of La Favorita 
who had now gone off into a dead faint. 

“Her maid will care for her. Until she comes let 
her lie there,” he answered in a harsh voice. 

He moved toward the door chat led to the hall, and 
in duty bound I followed. The spaniel, Caro, sprang 
in front of him as he neared the curtain and playfully 
barred his advance. 

General Bonaparte uttered an exclamation of an- 
noyance, and with his heavy military boot he dealt the 
poor little beast a kick that hurled him several feet 
away, yelping with surprise and pain. 

I swore, under my breath. But the general heard 
me. 

“What did you say. Sergeant Luc.^ ” he demanded, 
wheeling about an<l fixing me with his penetrating 
eyes. 

“Nothing, mo n general." 

“ But you thought.” 

He would have it then. I looked him direct in the 
face. 

“I thougTit, Citizen General, that I am half sorry I 
stopped the Count Luca.” 

“ Par Dieu ! coquin, you dare to be insolent ! ” 

Par Dieu I 711011 general, what I have said I have 
said.” 

Without replying he went on and we passed through 
the hall, down the stairs and into the street. On the 
way we met Perdita, whom I directed to go at once to 
her mistress. 

Our walk to headquarters we made in silence. 

Arrived in sight of them the general halted and said, 

“You may go now, sergeant, and I thank you for 
what you have done. I ask no questions as to how 
you happened to be in a position to afford me assist- 
ance. It is enough that you were there. As you value 
your life, keep the events you have witnessed to your- 
self.” 

“For the lady’s sake, general,” I said proudly. 

I was raising my hand in parting salute when a 
sudden thought flashed through my brain. 

“The firing-party, mon genDal, how about that.?” 
I asked. 

He laughed. Then said half musingly: “He has 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


164 

plans you have laid for me, I am sure, general,’' he 
sneered presently. “ You have no course but to allow 
me to go free. You dare not act otherwise ! Madame 
la Generate will set out for Milan as fast as horses can 
bring her when she learns the happenings of to-night. 
A quiet domestic life is worth a trifle of forbearance, 
my little Corsican.” 

With an impatient gesture Bonaparte waved his 
hand toward the bedroom. 

“Go, signor, by the same way you came in,” he 
said angrily. “I spare you till I catch you outside a 
lady’s boudoir.” 

At this the count grinned. Then, unhindered by 
me, he moved swiftly across the room to the door of 
the sleeping-chamber. Upon the threshold he paused, 
wheeled suddenly in his tracks and faced us once 
more. 

“You may expect news of me ere long,” he cried 
insolently, “ for I frankly tell you that I go hence to 
work you all the damage in my power. Your con- 
voys and your small parties of convalescents shall 
receiv^e my best attentions. General Bonaparte. Some 
of them will never reach Milan. And yet you dare not 
stop me ! I will fight the French until I die, do you 
hear! ’Twas 1 who made the peasants rise against 
your army.? I and my cousin roused the mountaineers 
in your rear I My cousin, la Co7itessa Aliandra, whose 
patriotism has set the Alps on fire against you ! ” 

I sprang forward, but Count Luca dashed through 
the bedroom and was gone ere I could reach him. 
Sullenly I came back to the Commander-in-Chief, curs- 
ing in my heart the diabolical cunning of the wily 
Piedmontese, whose artful mention of the name of his 
exquisite cousin in the presence of the Corsican was 
certain to bring upon her the resentment of one who 
paused at no extremity of ruthlessness in his punish- 
ments of those who menaced the safety of his army. In 
fancy I could already see the name of the beauteous 
Aliandra placarded in the streets, for though Bonaparte 
said nothing he would remember. 

And now. Sergeant Luc, we have no further busi- 
ness here,” the general said sharply, “Come, you will 
accompany me back to the quartier-ghihaL 

“But the lady, mon general^ I remonstrated, point- 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 165 

ing to the sofa that held the lovely form of La Favorita 
who had now gone off into a dead faint. 

“ Her maid will care for her. Until she comes let 
her lie there,” he answered in a harsh voice. 

lie moved toward the door that led to the hall, and 
in duty bound I followed. The spaniel, Caro, sprang 
in front of him as he neared the curtain and playfully 
barred his advance. 

General Bonaparte uttered an exclamation of an- 
noyance, and with his heavy military boot he dealt the 
poor little beast a kick that hurled him several feet 
away, yelping with surprise and pain. 

I swore, under my breath. But the general heard 
me. 

“What did you say. Sergeant Luc.? ” he demanded, 
wheeling about an<l fixing me with his penetrating 
eyes. 

“Nothing, mon ghikral." 

“But you thought.” 

He would have it then. I looked him direct in the 
face. 

“I thougfit. Citizen General, that I am half sorry I 
stopped the Count Luca.” 

“ Par Dieu I coquin, you dare to be insolent ! " 

Par Dieu I mo7i g'eneral, what I have said I have 
said.” 

Without replying he went on and we passed through 
the hall, down the stairs and into the street. On the 
way we met Perdita, whom I directed to go at once to 
her mistress. 

Our walk to headquarters we made in silence. 

Arrived in sight of them the general halted and said, 

“You may go now, sergeant, and I thank you for 
what you have done. I ask no questions as to how 
you happened to be in a position to afford me assist- 
ance. It is enough that you were there. As you value 
your life, keep the events you have witnessed to your- 
self.” 

“For the lady's sake, general,” I said proudly. 

I was raising my hand in parting salute when a 
sudden thought flashed through my brain. 

“The firing-party, rnon gMral, how about that.?” 
I asked. 

He laughed. Then said half musingly: “He has 


l66 THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 

escaped the guillotine as a child, dwould be hard to 
give him a firing party as a man.” 

“Sergeant Luc,” he said, pulling me by the ear so 
that it hurt, “ you had best make the Goddess of Chance 
your guiding deity. In any case, give thanks to her. 
She has saved you from the fusillade.” 


CHAPTER XX. 

“ TO-NIGHT COUNT LUCA WEDS THE LADY ALIANDRA.” 

Stable duty completed next morning I went to my 
quarters and sat down upon my bed, staring blankly 
at the wall in deep meditation. Certain words of the 
Commander-in-Chief, carelessly enough uttered on the 
night before stuck in my brain ; try though I might I 
could manage no satisfactory explanation of them. 

“He has escaped the guillotine as a child, ” Bonaparte 
had said. There could but be one solution to this — only 
children of the noblesse, only scions of some family of 
historic name and courtly pedigree had danger of the 
guillotine during the Terror. And he spoke of me! 
Of me, Georges Luc, whose heart would, up to a few 
weeks before, indignantly have repelled such insinua- 
tion as an unmerited insult. Since I had known the 
Lady Aliandra the suggestion aroused in me hopes that 
I scarcely dared to confess, even to myself. 

What if the general knew the facts connected with 
my birth and parentage .? Would it make any difference 
were I to learn them from him and lay the knowledge 
before the contessa .? Bah ! I was a fool ! Bonaparte 
must have confused my personality in his mind with 
that of some other. And yet he was not one to make 
errors. I might be noble ! 

What if I were } Aliandra could give no hope to the 
love of a peasant. The aristocrat would scorn to gain 
by his rank what his own worth could not obtain for 
him. No ! by the graves of my unknown parents ! I 
would make no move in the matter ! The love of a 
soldier of France were an honor to any woman, aye, 
even to her. As the simple trooper of the Republic I 
swore that I would yet win her. 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 167 

The hasty entrance of Captain Mirador cut short my 
musings. 

“You are wanted at the quartier general at once, 
sergeant/' he cried. “General Bonaparte himself has 
sent for you. I hope you're in no trouble, my boy .? " 

Assuring him that I knew of no cause for inquietude 
I made good speed to headquarters, where I was at 
once shown into a room whose only other occupant 
was the Commander-in-Chief. He sat behind a small 
table, busily engaged in writing, and briefly acknowl- 
edging my entrance bade me wait a few moments 
until he had finished. 

I stood bolt upright at “attention," regarding him as 
he feverishly dashed his pen over the sheet he was 
covering with his indecipherable characters. Men say 
he himself could scarcely ever read again what he had 
written. He signed with an impatient scrawl and threw 
the pen from him. With a long sigh he lay back in 
his chair and looked up. 

“You have had some experiences in the mountains 
of Piedmont, I believe, lieutenant } " he said inquir- 
ingly. '^Darnel what ails the fool now ! " 

For I had so far forgotten myself as to cast a hasty 
glance behind me, thinking some aide had entered, 
though I had heard no sound. 

“ Citizen General," I stammered, “ I do not under- 
stand " — 

“That I have given you your epaulettes ? " he broke 
in with a laugh of enjoyment. “Well, I have. One 
must be grateful for an untwisted neck. That mine is 
sound I owe to you. Lieutenant Luc. Hush ! no ac- 
knowledgments, I do not want them. I have sent for 
you to give you some special orders. Have you a 
good memory ? " 

“ I trust so, V1071 generall' I answered modestly. 

“Listen then. I have chosen you to carry out 
certain projects of mine because I believe you possess 
the qualifications necessary for their success. You are 
young, but you have a cool head as your going back 
after certain despatches once upon a time proves. You 
are not wanting in audacity, last night bears witness 
to that fact. Dia7iirel a sergeant of light-horse to as- 
pire to La Favorita ! Silence, I say. The matter is for- 
gotten. You are fortunate in what you undertake, and 


l68 THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 

may your fortune not now desert you. Here is what 
you are to do." 

“ Lannes will start from here against the Barbets. 
Your regiment will make part of his force, and you, of 
course, will accompany it. After the main strength of 
the brigands has been crushed, their scattered bands 
must be hunted down and exterminated. When the 
time for this duty arrives you will take a platoon and 
set out in search of Count Luca Campogiacinto. You 
know the country and should be able to find him." 

“ And when I have found him. Citizen General ? ” I 
asked respectfully as he paused. 

“ Then take him and hang him” Bonaparte returned 
in the swift hiss that with him betrayed strong feel- 
ing. 

“You may consider it done, mon ghikral” I con- 
fidently assured him. 

“String up his band likewise," he continued, piti- 
lessly, “Capture and hang" — 

He stopped, I heard him mutter : 

“Softly, softly, I go too fast. That will never do. 
They say she is beautiful, those who have seen her. 
Too beautiful to be executed. Lieutenant Luc, "raising 
his voice, “ you must take her alive. Capture her and 
bring her to me." 

“ Bring whom, Citizen General } " 

“The girl who has incited the peasants to revolt. 
She who calls herself the Countess Aliandra. “Ha! 
did you speak ? " 

“But a cough, mon general Your orders shall be 
carried out." 

“Very well, you may go now, that is all I have to 
say. This paper will be your warrant with your 
colonel, and here is your commission. Let it remind 
you always that Bonaparte never forgets." 

I placed the papers in the breast of my jacket, 
saluted, and left the room. Somehow I found myself 
in the street, but I have no clear idea as to how I g-ot 
there. 

Passers-by stared curiously at me as I walked hur- 
riedly along ; acquaintances passed me unheeded ; I 
heard a trooper of my own squadron whom I met 
mutter that Sans-barbe was becoming more of an aris- 
tocrat every day. 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 169 

He little knew the struggle that agitated my poor 
brain ! 

The woman I loved had been made an outlaw ! 
Like a beast of the forest she was to be hunted down ! 
To accomplish her capture / had been selected ! 

Certain degradation, nay, possibly death itself would 
be my lot if I refused. To cross the will of Bonaparte 
might mean any punishment. Yet it was not through 
fear that I had accepted the general's commission. 

I knew well that he could find many to do his will. 
That instead of to myself the task might be entrusted 
to some hard-headed^ harder hearted, rough rider of 
the cavalry whose rude brutality would consider the 
beautiful Aliandra only as one proscribed, at whose 
hands she would meet with little or no tenderness. 

That should not be ! No other than I should bring 
her to the general. With me her captivity should cause 
her no suffering. 

But Bonaparte ! What would he do with her.? To 
what purpose was he minded to devote this beautiful 
prisoner? Did the gleam of his eyes as he spoke of 
her, mean that — 

Whatever it signified, I made my decision. “ De- 
spite my orders ; despite Bonaparte ; despite the world ! 
I will contrive to save her ! ” 

Although after the happenings of that eventful even- 
ing I did not lay aside thoughts of La Favorita, 
— Bonaparte took care 1 had no chance of the pleas- 
ure of a second call at her house. My regiment 
was immediately ordered from Milan to take the field 
against the Barbets in all haste, and therefore my mili- 
tary duties fully occupied my waking moments. 

On the fourth morning after my adventure with Gen- 
eral Bonaparte, our column entered the mountains. It 
was of good strength, numbering twelve hundred in- 
fantry and cavalry, the whole under the orders of 
General Lannes. 

To the utmost extent did this energetic officer justify 
the confidence placed in him by the Commander-in- 
Chief Rapidly he overran the districts wherein the 
outrages against our soldiers had been committed, 
hunting down and exterminating the perpetrators. 

It was cruel and fatiguing campaigning, this chase 
after banditti. The nobles fled with their followers to 


170 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


the fastnesses of the Apenines, or throwing themselves 
into their ancestral castles, manned the walls and 
bade us defiance. We tracked them to their rocky 
lairs and put them to the sword. We stormed their 
crumbling, ivy-covered towers, and ere we left, their 
courtyards ran with the blood of the owners. Yet 
the loss was not all on their side. The mountaineers 
could use their weapons with far greater skill than the 
unwarlike peasants of the plains. 

In an affray with their united bands that we won, of 
course, in the mountains to the north of Genoa, the 
hopes of the Barbet chieftains were finally broken. 
They ceased to think of resistance and endeavored, 
each on his own account, to make peace with France. 
General Lannes then sent out small parties, both 
horsed and afoot, to scour the roads between Genoa 
and our own country and secure their safety for our 
convoys. 

Then came the sad part of this business for 
me. 

The time for my chase after Count Luca had come. 
Having shown my orders from Bonaparte to Colonel 
Billot I set out at the head of thirty gallant chassews^ 
directed to speedily terminate that gentleman’s affair. 
But many a sigh I heaved as I rode through those rugged 
passes, at the thought that my hands must sei^e the fair 
form of Aliandra to deliver her over to Bonaparte’s stern 
vengeance. We had lost many good soldiers in these 
mountain fights, but little mercy would the being who 
had inspired the dwellers of the hills expect from a 
military autocrat. 

I had fair success in my early operations. Two 
small bands of the Barbets I ran to earth, capturing two 
of the latter party. 

We had passed the night in the wretched mountain 
hamlet where we had found the last of these marauders. 
I was just about finishing my breakfast in the largest 
room of the best house the place boasted, when old 
Nicholas Mauran, my corporal, entered with the news 
that an Italian was without who desired earnestly to 
speak with the officer in command. 

^‘You have completed your preparations for the 
hanging of those two prisoners,” I asked, for I had 
orders to spare no one taken in arms. 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE l/t 

“The ropes are round their necks,” answered the 
corporal. 

“ Quite right. Then let the Italian come in to me.” 

Presently the fellow stood before me, a wretched; 
half-starved appearing individual whose emaciated 
form was wrapped in the hooded frock of a mendicant 
friar. His eyes he kept bent upen the ground at first, 
but the deep hollows beneath them as well as the 
sunken outlines of his haggard cheeks told of privation 
and hardship lately borne. So miserable did he seem 
that I felt a thrill of pity for him move my heart. 

In very courteous tones I said : “You wish to see 
the commanding officer, I believe, my good brother. 
Well, you may speak, for I am he.” 

At the sound of my voice the friar raised his hollow 
eyes to mine and stared at me with joyful surprise. 

“Now, blessed indeed be the gracious Madonna! 
who has answered my prayers and brought me to one 
who will believe what I tell him 1 ” he cried. “Ah, 
my son, I am rejoiced indeed to find that it is with 
you I have to deal.” 

Amazedly I stared at him. To the best of my knowl- 
edge I had never seen the man before. 

“•You seem to know me, my good brother,” I re- 
plied, “but if I have ever met you ere to-day it must 
have been in my dreams. Who are you ” 

“And yet you have broken bread at my board and 
have slept beneath my roof, my son,” he reproach- 
fully said. “ Has the remembrance of my hospitality 
so soon passed away ? ” 

A light flashed across my brain. 

To/ine Z>ieu f ” I exclaimed. “Can this be you, 
Father Guilio ? ” 

“Your memory has not played you false,” he 
answered falteringly. “You see before you, clad in 
rags and overwhelmed with the deepest despair, the 
unfortunate Guilio, formerly priest of Binasco.” 

Scarcely could I believe that I had heard aright. 
The man was so changed that the thing seemed to be 
impossible. 

“I must take your word for what you say, for if 
you be Father Giulio ’tis more than I could make oath 
to,” I said, “ What has brought you to such a pass.? ” 

“That will be plain to you when I have told my 


172 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


story, mio," he answered. “Ah, but I will say 
again that I am glad you are to hear it. You will 
understand ! After my poor town of Binasco was laid 
in ashes' those of my flock who remained alive decided 
that the level country was no safe place for them to 
dwell in. Under my guidance they sought a shelter in 
the mountains, and I lead them to a little valley I knew 
well, for I was born among these hills. We brought 
along with us what we were able to save from the 
flames, although that did not amount to a great deal. 
But ruined as we were, we nevertheless thanked 
Heaven that our lives were spared to us, and safe in 
our haven of refuge, neither the blue coats of your 
Republican troops nor the white ones of those who 
fight the Emperor’s battles would ever appear among 
us. Counting the French and Austrians our only 
enemies we anticipated harm from no man. Alas, 
figlio niio, we forgot to think of the Italians. 

“Three days ago a band of those who have risen 
against your troops came suddenly upon us. We 
welcomed them hospitably, nay, even with joy, for we 
knew their leader well. He was the Count di Campo- 
giacinto, who had command at “ Binasco on the awful 
day when our homes were taken from us. So we 
treated them as friends. Figlio mio, the wretches were 
out on a foray for provisions. They seized all that we 
owned, and left us not a mouthful to keep body and 
soul together. When I would have protested against 
the outrage, the Count Luca ordered that I should be 
tied up and given fifty lashes. Two of my parishioners 
who tried to protect me, they killed before my eyes. 
The rest ran away and I bore the punishment the 
Count had decreed.” 

''Par la Repuhlique ! But you had friends among 
them,” I exclaimed, “ Was not Giacomo there ? ” 

“Indeed he was there ! Figlio mio, he laid on the 
lashes,” Father Giulio said sourly. 

I could not repress a smile. 

“That was not grateful in Giacomo,” I remarked. 
“You saved him from me at Binasco, and he ought to 
have interfered for you with the Count Luca. And 
apropos of that little affair, my dear Father Giulio, I 
remember now that but for a piece of great good- 
fortune I might have slept too soundly at your delight- 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


173 


fill manse, Had you been given the chance, the hos- 
pitality you recall to me had been carried farther than 
I’d have relished, eh?” 

“My son, I was in the power of Giacomo. Had I 
delivered him to you, the Count Luca, who came that 
night would have put an end to my life with untold 
torments. I was obliged to swear that Giacomo was 
Lanciotto.” 

“But not obliged to aid him in cutting my throat, 
good father,” I sneered, “ you seem to have forgotten 
how ‘ the little French devil ’ had to leave the room you 
gave to him.” 

Father Giulio did not answer at once. His eyes 
searched mine as if he would read my very soul. At 
last he said solemnly : 

“My son, if I have sinned, heaven has requited 
heavily the evil I meditated against you. Homeless 
and beggared, you see me a suppliant before you, 
and may deny me if you wish the very food that 
would prolong my wretched life. Can you ask 
more ? ” 

'' Sang-dieu, no, I cannot nor do I,” I said impa- 
tiently. “Learn, my good father, that I never bore 
you resentment for that night. Georges Luc never 
honors with his enmity either a woman or a church- 
man. One can fight with neither.” 

“Thanks, figlio mio, for your forgiveness,” Father 
Giulio returned, his eyes seeking the floor. 

“And now if you have finished what you have to 
say, good father, to the table with you and eat your 
fill, that’s what you came here for I suppose ? ” I re- 
marked. 

“But I have not yet done,” he said. “My son, 
when the barbarians released me, they left me on the 
ground for dead. I had only fainted, and when I re- 
gained my senses I swore to be revenged upon him. 
I know where the band harbors, my son, and with me 
to guide you it will be easy to take Count Luca. He 
has not a dozen men with him.” 

“That is why you were seeking French troops, 
then ? ” I queried. “ You wish to bring them down 
upon the count, eh ? ” 

“ Yes, my son, that is my dearest wish,” the priest 
answered fiercely. “Will you go? ” 


174 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


“ Father Guilio, I will be plain with you,” I curtly 
said. “You deceived me once before. How then, 
can I trust you now } ” 

“ If my words will not convince you, let these marks 
speak for me,” he returned, suddenly throwing- back 
his frock and turning to me his lacerated shoulders. 
“They cannot lie. Will you believe me now .? ” 

The stripes were plain enough, in all conscience. 

“ I see them. You have had a brutal beating, my 
good father,” I said after I had looked. 

“Then you will go, figlio mio” he urged. 

Diahle, yes. Eat something now while I consult 
my second in command. Then we will set out.” 

Father Guilio hastened to take a seat at the table 
and I went outside, shouting for Poignet d’Acier. The 
niaitre d'armes, who was rummaging about in the 
houses of the hamlet with others of the squad, seeking 
for hidden valuables, was not far off and presently 
came to my side. I told him the story the priest had 
related. When I had finished, Renaud Bronsard gave 
a long whistle of surprise. 

“ ’Tis a likely enough tale, though,” he declared. 
“To treat him thus was quite after Count Luca’s fash- 
ion. As to his coming here it seems the natural course 
for him to take. Italians love revenge above all things. 
Dost believe him, Georges ? ” 

“No, par Dieu! that I do not,” I answered. “ He 
says this happened three days ago. Renaud Bronsard, 
on the word of my father’s son the welts that cross his 
hack are fresh ! ” 

Dame! ” the maitre d'armes cried. 

“ ’Tis true,” I asserted. “Those marks were made 
not many hours since. If ’twas to mislead our judg- 
ment, tonnej're de guerre I Poignet d’Acier, I envy that 
little priest his courage. They are no make-believes. 
I wonder he did not die under them.” 

“But what do you intend to do, then, Georges.?'” 
demanded Bronsard. 

“To take him at his word and let him lead us to the 
Count Luca,” I replied. “ He’ll take us straight into a 
trap, it is true, but what then .? We’ll be on the alert, 
Renaud. And I hope that thirty chasseurs need not fear 
defeat at the hands of any number of these scarecrows 
of Barbets,” 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 1 75 

Sacre ! No, I should say not,’’ Renaud Bronsard 
agreed, twisting his mustaches. 

“ Hola ! Citizen Sans-barbe, hola ! Citizen Poignet 
d’Acier,” whispered a sad voice behind us at this mo- 
ment. 

We turned, Tric-trac and the great ape. Agricola, had 
come up the street while we were talking and were 
both holding out their hands to our willing grasp. 

We welcomed them cordially, giving the beast as 
glad a greeting as we did the man. We liked them 
both. 

But even as we did this, Bronsard and I uttered ex- 
clamations of surprise the appearance of the ape was 
so morose and wo-begone. Fie hung his head as if 
ashamed and chattered sadly, trying to tell us some 
dismal tale. 

“Par bleu f ” grinned the maitre d'arnies, Citizen 
Agricola acts as if brooding over an insult. 

‘ ‘ An insult ! ” cried Tric-trac. “He has been beaten 
till his bones are sore. Fancy that for a republican 
ape ! It happened but two days ago. As usual I was 
near my friend Count Luca’s band. Agricola had wan- 
dered from me in the mountains and returned to me 
like this. There must have been several of the rascals 
to do the business, one or two would have little chance 
with him. See how they clubbed him ! Agricola dis- 
play thy wounds ! ” 

At his signal, the ape showed us an eye that still was 
red and swollen, and, with pathetic gestures, pointed 
to numerous bruises that the hair torn from his power- 
ful limbs permitted us to view. Suddenly the beast 
uttered a hideous chattering and pointed to a near-by 
tree. 

Following his gesture, I sa^v my acting provost- 
marshal stringing up the two captives of the night be- 
fore. 

To this spectacle Agricola strode, apparently greatly 
interested in the execution. 

Though used to acts of war, I never had liking for 
these cold-blooded affairs and as I turned away, the 
mountebank spoke quickly and earnestly. 

“A word with you monsieur le lieutenant, for I see 
you are promoted. The business on which I come 
admits of no delay.” 


1/6 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


En avant with it then, Tric-trac ! " 1 answered. 

“It won’t take long to tell. As you know, Sans- 
barbe, the little corporal has had me gathering news of 
Count Luca Campogiacinto, a congenial task as you 
can guess. I have been pretty close at that gentle- 
man's heels for the last few days. He broke camp 
before daybreak this morning, but I was on the alert, 
and tracked the band to a spot about three miles from 
here where the road passes through a ravine, a very 
pretty place for an ambush. There the count lined 
both sides of the path with his followers, the bandits 
concealing themselves most effectively among the 
rocks and bushes. I saw it all from a secure place of 
observation, and I can tell you that they hid them- 
selves well. 

“First, though, they went through a proceeding 
that was comical enough. One of them, who wore a 
friar’s frock, laid it aside, while old Giacomo, — yes, 
he was there also, — made tierce play with a scourge on 
the poor devil’s back. Sapn'sli, how he wriggled and 
yelled ! The hand of the landlord is no light one. 
The object of his attentions almost fell twice. But he 
bore it to the end, and after he had put on his monkish 
dress again, he started away in this direction. I knew 
French troops were here, so I determined to follow and 
warn them not to trust him. Don’t believe what he 
has told you, Sans-barbe.” 

On hearing this, I laughed, and related to Tric-trac 
my interview with Father Giulio, as well as my re- 
marks upon the same to Poignet d’Acier. When he 
learned of my determination to walk boldly into the 
snare and trust to the skill and bravery of my chasseurs, 
the juggler shook his head. 

“It won’t do, this plan of yours, Sans-barbe,” he 
declared. “Count Luca has thirty men with him, 
and they all can shoot. A single volley would do the 
work for your whole command. Hear what I have to 
propose. I can lead you by a round-about way to a 
place whence you can come in on Count Luca’s rear. 
'Fhen, instead of surprising you, the count will receive 
some astonishment himself. How will that do.?” 

“Beautifully,” I cried with enthusiasm. “You will 
really do this, Tric-trac .? ’’ 

“ Parbleu! will I? Only try me,” the mountebank 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


177 


laughed. “Within an hour your men shall be fifty 
yards in rear of Count Luca’s band. Then you must 
do the rest yourselves. I have no doubt that you’ll be 
able to destroy them. That is, if they don’t have look- 
outs posted who will tell them that you’re not follow- 
ing the road. ” 

'' Sacre I and that is what they’re likely to have,” 
broke in Poignet d’Acier. “The count has most 
probably thrown forward along the road two or three 
fellows who, at our approach, are to fall back and 
give notice to the main body. If that be the case, and 
they find we don’t come in sight, ten to one they’ll 
smell a rat and be off.” 

“Let us hope that they don’t, Renaud,” I was be- 
ginning, when he cut me short. 

“ We can make hope certainty. 'Twill be simple to 
do that. If two of us follow the road and ride into their 
ambush, they’ll think that all is well and the others are 
following.” 

“I don’t like to send two men straight to their 
deaths, Poignet d’Acier,” I objected. 

“Bah! they’ll run no risk at all. The brigands 
won't fire at them, you may be sure. They’ll let them 
pass safe, waiting for the rest of the platoon, and 
thinking to finish the first when they come galloping 
back to learn the cause of the volley. So they’ll get 
by the ambush, don't you see.? Then will be your 
time. Count Luca’s men will be too busy watching 
for the main body to heed anything else. «You’ll sur- 
prise them completely. And as for ordering any one 
to go, you'll not have to order. I’ll volunteer, and I 
know old Mauran will go with me.” 

“What do you think of it, Tric-trac? ” I demanded. 

“An excellent idea,” the juggler declared. “Citi- 
zen Poignet d'Acier knows what he is about.” 

“Then to work,” I said, and speedily the chasseurs 
were assembled. 

Father Giulio, still busy at table, was greatly aston- 
ished when I ordered two of my men to secure him. 
He began a chattering remonstrance, but seeing the 
juggler beside me grew very pale. 

As a gag was being thrust into his jaws, the priest’s 
tongue put a dagger into my heart. 

“Make haste my grinning lieutenant,” he whispered, 
12 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


178 

“ or Count Luca will enjoy those charms that enchanted 
you the night she saved your life at my house in 
Binasco.” 

“What do you mean ? ” I gasped. 

“To-night Count Luca weds the Lady Aliandra.” 

“ How ? Tell me more ! '' 

“ Never ! he jeered — and though I threatened fire 
and torment, he closed his lips in grim revenge — for I 
was now the tortured one. 

But this saved Father Giulio's life for the moment. I 
determined to take him with us. Later I could ques- 
tion him. 

A stout mule was among the booty taken from the 
band we had destroyed the day before. 

Upon this beast the priest was bound face down- 
wards and looking towards the animal’s tail. 

'riuis secured, 1 doubted not that I could lay hands 
on Father Giulio when I wanted him. 

Poignet d’Acier and Nicholas Mauran started in ad- 
vance. After they had gone about a hundred yards I 
gave the command for the squad to mount and we rode 
out of the hamlet. We kept to the road for perhaps a 
quarter of a mile, and then at Tric-trac’s bidding we 
plunged into a narrow path to the left whose existence 
I should never have discovered, by my own eyes. 

With the mountebank in the lead we made our way 
rapidly through the forest, down gullies and through 
ravines, scrambling among the rocks and often taking 
advantage of the dry beds of former water-courses. 
Eventually we gained a ravine where Tric-trac in- 
formed me that the horses must be tethered and the 
rest of the march made afoot. 

“You need leave no men to guard the beasts,” he 
observed. “Tie them fast, that's all. They will be 
perfectly safe.” 

“But how ahout him P” I demanded, pointing to the 
wretched Father Giulio. 

Tric-trac laughed. 

“ ril provide for him, never fear,” he said. “ Agric- 
ola, come hither.” 

He made some strange, jabbering noises, and, on 
the word of Georges Luc, that gifted monkey at once 
took his station alongside the mule that bore the priest, 
showing his teeth in a most threatening manner, and 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


179 

glancing towards a tall fir-tree that stood out into the 
sky above them. But I noticed more. There seemed 
to be an intense and hideous joy on the ape’s face — a 
kind of ashen fear upon the priest’s. 

“We’ll find him here when we return,” the juggler 
told mein a voice that was clearly audible to Father 
Giulio. 

So we left the good father, under the charge of his 
strange guardian, and once more followed Agricola’s 
master. 

For three minutes we pressed on behind him, carrying 
our sabers under our arms to prevent the clank of their 
scabbards betraying us. To the foot of a high eleva- 
tion that formed one side, and that the northern, of 
the gorge that we had entered he directed our course. 
Then, before beginning the ascent, he asked me to 
pass the word along the line for very careful climbing. 

I gave the necessary direction and motioned to Tric- 
trac that we were ready. 

Slowly and with the greatest pains to keep from be- 
traying our presence to the enemy our advance was 
made. Within half-a-dozen paces of the brow of the 
hill the juggler signaled for the men to halt. Then he 
beckoned me forward, dropping at the same time on 
his hands and knees. Imitating his example, I crawled 
to where, peering over the crest of the hill, I could 
plainly view the whole of the trap set for my troopers 
by the Count Luca. 

Below me, at scarce fifty yards distance, ran the 
road by which the Barbets expected us. Lying in wait 
among the boulders and clumps of bushes that fringed 
its edge, I counted eighteen villainous-appearing 
brigands, all armed to the teeth. As Tric-trac had said, 
they had chosen their position with good judgment. 
So near to the road were they that for their bullets to 
go astray was well-nigh impossible. Had I ridden in 
among them as I had purposed the birds of the hills 
had been well gorged on the bodies of French chas- 
seurs long before midday. 

My lips tightened as I marked the white hair of 
Giacomo, who was ensconced behind a great rock 
almost exactly in my front. Sharply I looked for 
Count Luca, but he was nowhere to be seen. 

“You’ll not find him there,” whispered Tric-trac, 


i8o 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


who actually seemed to read my thoughts. “He is 
with those on the farther side of the road.’’ 

“ How many more do they number.?” I breathed in 
his ear. 

“ A dozen beside Campogiacinto. I told you he had 
thirty men,” the juggler returned with impatience. 

Upon this scene we gazed perhaps four minutes, I 
gradually and carefully signaling my men into position 
so that no bandit could escape. Then two agile moun- 
taineers came leaping down the roadway below us. 
Into the bushes on the northern side they dived, a 
branch or more cracked as they forced their way 
tlirough them, and all was still as before. A few 
moments after, with thud of hoof and jingle of steel, 
my two brave comrades rode into view. 

Leisurely and careless was their progress, the reins 
hung lose upon their horses’ necks, the beasts of Bron- 
sard and IMauran came on at a slow walk, their riders 
were chatting together with as much unconcern as if 
they had been in the heart of France. Occasionally, 
it is true, they cast a glance over the road before them 
and examined the trees on either hand. But it was 
done in a listless, perfunctory manner that appeared to 
indicate that they thought themselves perfectly secure 
from danger. 

Onward their tardy chargers bore them between the 
lines of the mountaineers as they lay crouched in, their 
coverts like so many tigers in readiness to spring. 
Then was the time to mark the courage and insensi- 
bility to fear that dwelt in the hearts of those two per- 
fect soldiers. They made no pause in their merry 
conversation. No tremble of tone, no hesitation of 
speech, no wandering of the eye betrayed the fact that 
they knew — as they did well, for Tric-trac had accu- 
rately located the ambuscade — that they were riding 
through the very jaws of death. As they passed below 
my station Renaud Bronsard smote his thigh and 
laughed at some remark of old Mauran’s — a laugh that 
rang true and clear as the breeze carried it away and 
flung it back in echoes from the hills. 

Our ambuscade would be a sure success. Count 
Luca would be no bridegroom this night, — for he would 
be dead, I chuckled, and was about to give the word. 

Just then a hideous scream rang out far down the 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE l8l 

glen, a curious, distant chattering and yelling floated 
in the hot and dusty air. 

Suddenly, with wild cries, Giacomo and his peasants, 
followed by Luca and his bandits, sprang up and fled 
through the rocks and bushes, not taking the roadway, 
but going like mad over the hilly country. 

Astounded, I ordered my men to fire, but in the 
hurry few fell to our shots, though Bronsard and Mau- 
raii, as they charged after them, each got one of the 
flying wretches upon his sword. 

A moment after every man of Luca's band had dis- 
appeared, speeding up the ravine. 

'' Diahle! what caused their sudden panic.?” mut- 
tered Tric-trac at my side. 

“ Listen ! ” I whispered, for the jabbering and shriek- 
ing still rang out on the air. 

A moment more and I had clambered down the hill- 
side, followed by my men, and stood in the road. 

Here Bronsard and Mauran joined us with dripping 
swords. 

''Dame! What could have frightened our rascals 
so suddenly .? ” I asked. 

For answer, the maitre d’armes pointed towards a 
high fir tree upon the hillside further down the pass. 

Then all of us uttered an astounded cry, for from its 
topmost branch hung dangling the body of a man. 

To this tree we rode hurriedly. 

Beneath it were our horses, likewise the mule that 
had borne the priest, but it was riderless, for from the 
high fir tree hung in plain relief against the sky the 
body of Father Giulio, most neatly executed in provost- 
marshal style. 

Beneath stood the ape, saluting grimly like a grena- 
dier who has done his duty. 


CHAPTER XXL 

THE WOLF WITHIN THE BEAUTy’s BOUDOIR. 

At view of this a shout of rage came from some of 
my troopers. ‘ ‘ The accursed beast, ” they cried, ‘ ‘ has, 
by his monkey trick, warned our enemy and destroyed 
our ruse. ” 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


1S2 


'^Tonne Dieu ! ” growled Sergeant Santron, “ this brute 
has done a great service to the traitor Barbets.” 

“What prompted Agricola to this peculiar act ? " I 
queried hastily of Tric-trac, keeping back some of my 
men, for they would have laid violent hands upon the 
ape, who still kept saluting and jabbering as if reporting 
to a superior officer. 

“ First, the peculiar love of imitation that all monkeys 
have. Agricola simply followed the proceedings he 
saw your provost-marshal take this morning with the 
two other prisoners,” answered the mountebank. 
“Second, the joy of revenge, common to apes as 
well as man. I do not doubt Father Giulio was 
one of those who had a hand in beating poor Citizen 
Agricola.” 

“O, then the worthy beast but avenged an insult ! 
Parhleui I honor the monkey-gentleman, for his con- 
duct,” laughed Poignet d’Acier. “Citizen Agricola, I 
salute you.” 

And he greeted the jabbering brute wdth military 
ceremony. A performance in which the maitre d'armes 
was followed by most of the platoon. 

“Nay, do not bear malice against him. Lieutenant 
Sans-barbe ; Agricola was but doing with the noose 
what you would have done with your ready saber,” 
continued Bronsard, for I was regarding the ape with 
a savage eye. I remembered the monk’s lips he had 
closed forever could have given me further explanation 
of Father Giulio’s words : “Count Luca weds to-night 
the Lady Aliandra.” 

Luca had escaped me. Misericorde, he might now 
make true the dying utterance of the priest. Thinking 
of this I gave hasty orders for pursuit. 

“We’ll catch the fox yet, my lads,” I cried, “before 
he reaches his lair ! ” 

Another moment and I had, with youth’s rashness, 
been galloping along the highway up the glen upon 
the track of the man who was now doubly my enemy ; 
but Tric-trac suddenly laid his hand upon my arm and 
spoke in warning voice. 

'' Diahle I would you run into another ambush.?” 
Think you not by this time the Barbets have rallied? 
and will they not contest every mile of that road to 
Luca’s castle ? ” 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


183 


You believe he’ll fly there ? ” I asked eagerly. 

“ He must, he has no other harbor of safety in these 
hills.” 

“Then lead me there,” I cried. 

“In good time, but not by this road,” answered the 
juggler. “We will make a detour. ’Twill be hard 
traveling, but as we turn our horses’ heads away from 
his stronghold, Luca will think we have given him up 
as a bad job and are returning to Milan. Order your 
troop to follow me, lieutenant, I know every by-path 
of these hills.” 

Bronsard agreeing that Tric-trac’s suggestion was 
wise, I gave the necessary directions and moodily 
turned my face from the direct path to my enemy, and 
perchance also my love. I feared the priest’s dying 
words had too much truth in them.” 

So along rough roads we journeyed, up hill and down, 
crossing mountain torrents, but gradually making a 
half circle, I could note by the sun. 

As we rode, Tric-trac, who was mounted on the 
priest’s mule, at my side, explained certain important 
facts to me, about our coming adventure. “ Castle Cam- 
pogiacinto, ” he remarked, “ is a place so naturally strong 
that Luca with his remaining peasaints and bandits 
could hold it against a regiment, “Our only chance 
is a surprise ! ” 

“And how will we do that?” I asked impat- 
iently. 

“ Trust Tric-trac for that ! ” laughed the juggler. “ I 
have not been the supposed friend and confidant of 
my enemy Luca for nothing.” And a grim smile 
lighted the face of the mountebank as he gazed at the 
accursed ape. Agricola, who followed in our path, be- 
striding an unwilling and frightened country horse upon 
whose lean ribs he every now and then beat a tattoo 
with his heavy fists, to the merriment of my troopers 
who rode after him. 

“But the attack must be made to night,” I said im- 
pulsively. “ And though the sun is going down, I see 
no signs of Castle Campogiacinto ! 

“ It is yet ten miles away.” 

‘ ‘ Diahle, so far ! ” 

“ We dare not approach it by daylight. With your 
permission, Lieutenant, we will camp here,” answered 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


184 

the juggler, pointing to a little valley down which 
trickled a mountain rill, and beyond which the road 
seemed very rugged. 

“ But Count Luca must be mine to night ! ’’ I mut- 
tered, a dogged despair in my voice. 

“And mine is the only plan that gives you chance 
of it, my lover I'* whispered Tric-trac. “Dost not 
think," he added, “I noted your misery as Father 
Giulio jeered : ‘ Count Luca weds to-night the Lady 
Aliandra?’ Let your men rest and 1 will tell you 
further ! " 

“I gave the orders, my wearied troopers hastily 
threw themselves off their tired steeds and made a 
mountain bivouac as the sun went down, red and fiery, 
behind the Western hills. 

As they did this, I whispered to the juggler in 
a fainthearted voice. “You do not think the Lady 
Aliandra weds him willingly 

Liable, no! He wants her to marry him, Sans- 
barbe. Luca has exhausted all the arts of a lover to no 
purpose. There is nothing left to him but to try force 
or stratagem. He is not above that, the man is des- 
perate and will dare anything, for Lady Aliandra’s 
marvelous beauty and great estates. Has she not 
cause to be afraid 1 " 

“ Sacrel that she has," I swore between my teeth. 
“We’ll foil him, Tric-trac. The castle must be taken 
and my lo — I mean the contessa, shall he saved a7id he 
shall be hanged! Then I muttered, “But it is ten 
miles by a mountain road. How can my tired men 
get there in time ? ” 

“That I will now explain I" answered the juggler. 
“ I know a way through the wilds that I use myself, 
but by night the leading of so large party I could not 
answer for." 

“ Yet to-night we must carry out our purpose if it is 
to be done at all," I said determinedly ; then asked 
eagerly ; “ How many men could you guide along 
the path you mention ?" 

“One, yes, two with certainty. No more." 

“You shall have the two I Flola 1 Poignet d’Acier 1 " 

The maitre d’annes joined us immediately. Rapidly 
1 told him what lay before us. He asked only one 
question. “ When do we start 1 ” 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 185 

“At once. We’ll have time to eat upon the road,” 
Tric-trac responded. 

“In five minutes I’ll be ready,” I said. 

Calling Pierre Santron, who during the campaign 
had attained the grade of ranking sergeant of the troop, 
I entrusted him with the command of the chasseurs. 
As soon as the men were sufficiently refreshed he was 
to set out at their head for the castle, the road to which 
Tric-trac carefully explained, mounted if possible, 
afoot if the horses had not recovered their strength. 
Santron swore that he would do his best, and I knew 
that the Breton would be better than his word. 

Seeing Agricola by the side of the juggler as we were 
about to start I suggested that the ape might be a hin- 
drance to our success. 

“Hadn’t you better leave him here, Tric-trac?’* I 
said. “ He might again destroy our plan. We’ll be 
much better off without him.” 

“The deuce, we’d be better off without Agricola ! ” 
his master answered in offended tones. “Why, 
Citizen Sans-barbe, on him depends our getting into 
the castle at all ! Besides when it comes to battle — • 
wait — only wait! See how the ape can fight, if he 
takes the notion 1 ” 

I could not myself perceive how Agricola could be 
vitally important as a factor in our anticipated victory. 
Yet since his master declared that such was the case I 
made no more objections to his forming one of our 
company. 

Led by the juggler we entered the woods and forced 
our way through them for perhaps half an hour, head- 
ing always north. At the end of that time we came 
out into a narrow mountain-path that was plainly 
enough marked to the eye, though it showed few signs 
of having recently been traveled. Along it we pro- 
ceeded in single file, making much better progress. No 
halt we made in our march until the sun had sunk. 

Then the juggler declared that we had time enough 
for the evening meal to be eaten. Rations and flasks 
were accordingly produced, and we recruited well our 
powers for the work before us. Hunger satisfied, on- 
ward we pressed again through the thickening dusk of 
the evening. 

Darkness gathered fast among the mountains, but 


1 86 THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 

we had no difficulty in following our guide. He had 
guarded against that. 

The mountebank had procured a long bit of cord 
about the thickness of one’s little finger. Holding the 
end himself, he passed along the coil to Agricola, who 
handed it to me, retaining at the same time his own 
grasp on the rope. Poignet d’Acier, who was behind 
me, seized it next. 

Thus, all of us holding to the cord, we were enabled 
to follow Tric-trac with perfect certainty. As for him 
he knew the path as well in the dark as he did by day- 
light. Forward he hurried with never a break nor 
moment of hesitation in his rapid walk, and we kept 
pace with him easily, though it had become so dark 
that I could not see the back of Agricola before me. 
We had covered a few miles when suddenly I came 
crash into Agricola and found by iJiat that he and his 
master had halted. Poignet d’Acier did the same for 
me a second later. 

“What is it, Tric-trac.^” I demanded cautiously. 
“ Have we arrived ? ” 

“For the present at least, Sans-barbe. The castle 
is just ahead, but there is no use of our going farther 
now.” Then his words astonished us. “To do this 
trick, the ape must have moonlight ! ” 

So we stood patiently there in the night and waited 
for the appearance of the moon. 

From the inky black before us there was borne to 
our ears the rippling splash of running waters. That 
was the only sound that greeted them, save the sweep 
of the wind among the boughs of the trees over- 
head. 

Several spears of light seemed to shoot across the 
valley. 

Noting them, I whispered : “ His castle ? ” 

“Yes!” muttered Tric-trac. “The infernal scoun- 
drel ! ” 

But I was not thinking of him. My mind was upon 
her. One of those spears of light might come from 
her chamber, where they were arraying her to be his 
bride. 

A moment later the juggler spoke to me, a sudden 
sadness in his voice : 

“And if you rescue the Lady Aliandra from Count 


THE GIET of BONAEARTE 


Luca will it be to take her youth and beauty to the 
military vengeance of General Bonaparte, who is not 
over merciful to rebels and insurgents.” 

To this I only answered with a broken sigh. I knew 
as well as he, the danger hanging over the poor girl. 
Military discipline pulled one way, love pulled the 
other. When I saw her appealing beauty, military dis- 
cipline would probably “ about face ! ” 

Perchance some fear of this must have been in Poi- 
gnet d’Acier's mind, his voice came to me sternly : 

“ Sans-barbe, I will talk with you about this after 
you have captured our General’s fair prisoner.” 

I feared what the martinet ma'itre d'ar pies would say, 
so I answered him naught, but sat silently on. 

For a long time we waited. Gradually the sky to 
the east began to lighten, though in one huge space 
the murk of night seemed to gather with greater inten- 
sity. Then the great orb of the moon sailed majesti- 
cally up over the crests of the mountain, and the scene 
before us was flooded with her mellow rays. They 
showed us a broad expanse of clear sky, with broken 
masses of clouds sweeping here and there across the 
heavens. 

We stood in the mouth of a narrow gorge, between 
two frowning heights, that opened into a valley run- 
ning north and south, the same, as I afterward learned, 
in which stood the inn of Giacomo. The home of the 
landlord, however, lay many miles below. 

Directly before us, at a distance of some fifty feet, 
a stream, broad and shallow, flashed away in the 
moonlight. On the farther side of the water a huge 
mass of rocks rose up, filling the middle of the valley. 
The height of the mound they formed was fully sixty 
feet, its sides were rough and nearly perpendfcular. 
From the broad summit of the precipitous crag the 
battlements and towers of a great stone castle reared 
themselves against the sky of the summer night. 
Beyond them, to the east, a gloomy background of 
mountains served to accentuate and throw out more 
plainly their sullen and forbidding contours. 

More light flitted from the windows. 

“The wolf is in his lair,” muttered Bronsard. 

“Without a doubt,” Tric-trac answered, with a 
strange ring of joy in his voice. 


i88 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


“Wait for me here for a moment, my lieutenant,'' 
he continued. 

. He disappeared, and I could hear him rustling about 
in a clump of bushes to our left. Within five minutes 
he was back, bearing a great burden of some sort on 
his shoulders. 

En avant, now, Citizen Sans-barbe,” he whispered. 
“And pray that the Goddess of Climbing give you 
a clear head and a certain foot. You will need 
both.” 

Out we moved in single file, keeping in the shade of 
the trees as much as possible. Then we entered the 
stream. The water was not deep, coming but a few 
inches above our ankles. Across we splashed and 
were speedily hidden in the black shadows cast by 
the great cliff that held the castle. There we moved 
closed to Tric-trac, eager for him to show us the 
path we were to follow in our ascent. 

“Don’t you be impatient, citizens,” the mounte- 
bank chuckled. “There’s a gentleman among us 
whom I intend to lead the way, and you must give 
me a chance to talk to him. Agricola, my friend, 
come hither.” 

For some moments, aided by vivid gestures. Tric- 
trac conversed with the ape in a curious jabbering 
sort of chatter, sounding to me like the utmost non- 
sense. 

Agricola knew what his master meant, however. 
The juggler ceased, and presently the soft sliding of 
dirt and the rattling fall of small pebbles announced 
that the ape had started to scale the crag. 

“What’s this for, Tric-trac?” I whispered angily. 

“It’s as it should be,” he responded in confident 
tones. “We’ve been here before, Agricola and I. 
He’s taken me safe into Castle Campogiacinto twenty 
times by this path. He’s carrying a rope that I tied 
loosely over his shoulders, to the top of the wall. 
The other end of the line I have fast to this ladder of 
cords. ’Twas to get this apparatus that I left you just 
before we crossed the brook. Arrived at the top Agri- 
cola will draw up the ladder and make fast the ends. 
Then we will mount in our turn.” 

“ Par Dieu ! But this is a dizzy road you would have 
us follow, Tric-trac ! ” I muttered. 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


189 

^‘Ha! the ladder begins to rise!” whispered the 
maitre d'armes. “ Bravo 1 Agricola ! ” 

Presently the mountebank declared that the ladder 
was ready to be mounted. 

“When Pm at, the top Til shake the cords hard, 
Sans-barbe,” he said as he began to climb. “Then 
do you ascend, with Citizen Poignet d’Acier to follow 
the last.” 

I did not much relish this manner of getting into 
the castle. It seemed several minutes after the juggler 
started before the ropes were shaken in a vigorous 
fashion. This told me my turn had come. With my 
saber between my teeth I grasped the ropes and moved 
upward. Even now to think of that torturing climb 
makes my brain reel, and I seem to feel again the 
yielding, swaying ropes beneath my feet as I swung 
out into empty space. I managed it somehow, and 
stood finally beside Tric-trac and Agricola on one of 
the battlements of Castle Campogiacinto's western 
tower. 

A few minutes after, the maitre d'armes was beside 
us. 

“Tric-trac,” I whispered, “take us to the Lady 
Aliandra’s chamber. I command now. We must act 
like lightning I ” 

“ Vour plans, boy t ” asked Bronsard shortly, 

“To seize my prisoner in her chamber and defend 
it. That will keep Luca and his band busy and occu- 
pied attacking us till my platoon arrives.” 

“Spoken like a soldier of the Republic,” said my 
military mentor, patting me affectionally upon the 
shoulder. 

“ Perchance it is the best thing we can do,” assented 
the juggler. “The lady may even become our friend 
when she sees her captor. By this time she must have 
some suspicion of her patriot guardian and his inten- 
tions to her. Besides, there is a stairway leading to 
the retreat of beauty that may be defended by two 
such men as Bronsard and Sans-barbe.” 

“ Then, pray God we are in time. Lead on — Let the 
ape stay here and guard the ladder, in case we have to 
retreat. Besides, at proper opportunity, do you steal 
back, Tric-trac, and hurry my troopers along the road.” 

“Come ! ” whispered the juggler. “ I’d never dare 


1 90 THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 

this thing were it not for a vengeance I love better than 
my life.” 

“ And Georges, because he is a fool for love,” mut- 
tered Bronsard, grimly, — “and I, because I want to 
spit the Wolf, and always obey the commands of 
my officer ! ” 

“Follow me ! ” begged Tric-trac. “Tread lightly or 
we are all dead men. Fortunately, the lady whom you 
seek, if in her chamber, can be found without descend- 
ing to the main hall of the castle.” 

As well as I could see in the semi-daYkness, we had 
made our entry on one of the upper battlements. 

Following the mountebank, who seemed to know 
the place thoroughly, we left the outer walls and 
groped along a stone passage. 

After some fifty paces of this, we reached a stout 
door hanging upon rusty and broken hinges. With 
some exertion, our guide succeeded in pushing it far 
enough ajar to allow our bodies to pass through the 
opening. 

Here we found a passageway dimly lighted by small 
lamps set in its walls at long intervals. 

Fortunately this light permitted us to follow each 
other’s steps without stumbling as silence now seemed 
to be important, for Tric-trac’s movements were noise- 
less. He had placed his hand upon his lips, warning 
us to give no voice, and both Bronsard and myself 
carried our sabers in our hands to prevent their clank- 
ing. 

As we approached the end of this passage, a greater 
light seemed to enter it from a wide stone stairway that 
came up into it from some illuminated room below. 
Apparently the apartment below was the banqueting- 
hall of the Castle, for, as we drew near, the sound of 
carouse and wine-drinking and boisterous voices as- 
cended to us faintly. 

With military instinct the maitre darmes silently 
placed himself at the head of the stairway, while turn- 
ing to a near-by door upon the passage that had been 
carelessly left a handbreadth open by some one enter- 
ing hurriedly, Tric-trac whispered to me : 

“Her boudoir, Sans-barbe.” 

I started forward, hastening noiselessly to that glit- 
tering thread of lamp-rays. 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


I9I 

Before I reached her door the voice of Aliandra came 
to me and I slackened my pace. If some one were 
with her I must take thougfht before I made my appear- 
ance. As her sweet tones ceased, those of a man made 
answer, their sound sending a thrill of fury through my 
whole frame. Count Luca was with the Coritessa” 
“Power of Heaven ! were they already wedded 


CHAPTER XXH. 

BY ORDER OF GENERAL BONAPARTE. 

To the slightly opened door I glided, and there stood 
fast. 

As I reached the threshold I heard the lady remark 
in caustic suggestion : “I am very tired, Luca, and you 
will pardon me if I send you away. To-morrow we 
can talk further on this matter.” 

“With all due allowance for your fatigue, fair cousin,” 
the Count replied half sneeringly ; “this matter can- 
not wait. To-night you must hear what I have to 
say.” 

These were no bride’s speeches nor bridegroom’s 
tones. My heart beat again. 

“ I wish to hear no more,” said Aliandra, decidedly, 
“unless you will deign , to inform me, my autocratic 
guardian, why you brought me from the peasant’s hut 
I loved, to this gloomy castle.” 

“Can you not guess, Aliandra -mia My fears for 
your safety from the marauding French .? ” answered 
the man’s voice, 

“Also why are there sounds of merriment from the 
hall below 1 Why, by your direction, did my maid 
robe me this evening in white.-’” said the girl. There 
was a tremulous inquiry in her sweet voice that made 
me think she feared some unknown latent danger. 

“Because,” answered Luca, with a kind of jeering 
despair in his tones, “this is my /^7s/ night in my Castle 
of Campogiacinto. These worthy fellows who carouse 
with me are the last of the Barbcts ! ” 

“The last of the Barbets .? Dio niio ! You cannot 
mean that all are slain, save your few followers } ” 
faltered Aliandra, in tones horrified and amazed. 


192 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


“The very last! Defeated in open battle, hunted 
through every defile of our mountains, shot down and 
executed by "the remorseless PTench. These are the 
very last of the poor fellows your beauty, your enthu- 
siasm has urged to take up arms — the last of the vic- 
tims your patriotism has made for Italy I ” 

“O Madonna, can this be? Has what you taught 
me would be a winning cause come to an end so 
miserable ? ” sighed the girl. “ And I had thought my 
name might go down in the records of time as that of 
an Italian Joan of Arc ; that, aroused by me, the peas- 
ants of these mountains might have freed our soil from 
the remorseless French invaders. You taught me that, 
Luca, and I believed your knowledge of the state of 
the country, of the military situation.” There was an 
awful reproach in Aliandra’s tones. “Prompted by 
you I have made their love for me sentence these true- 
hearted peasants to the bullet, the sword, the noose, 
because they loved me. Gone, all gone I and with 
them the last hope of my country 1 ” and the girl burst 
into a wail of anguish that made me know that the 
Lady Aliandra Campogiacinto, was not only true 
patriot, but tender-hearted woman. Perchance had I 
been an Italian, I would have done the same as she. 

But even as I reflected, the sweet voice came to me 
again, strangely calm, and haughty with a great dis- 
dain, as she muttered, “And I was your tool ! ” 

“ ]\Iy tool I What do you mean ? Aliandra, have I 
not been a patriot like thee ? ” came Luca's answering 
cry. 

“No! For you did this for Austrian gold! Luca 
Campogiacinto. These letters from Vienna and Milan. 
— ah ! do not start to take them from me ! they came 
into my hands by accident in an unused room of this 
gloomy castle, — these say you have received the 
Emperors pay for being an Italian patriot ! ” 

“ And why not should I take money to be spent in 
arming the insurgents?” sneered the count. 

“ Then why didn't you arm them P” cried the girl. 
“They fought only with the weapons of the chase and 
husbandry ; scythes, flails, even their naked hands 
were upraised against the weapons of a veteran army. 
No! the money was not spend for patriotic uses, but 
on the gambling tables of Milan ! ” 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


193 

Here her voice was dominated by his crying sternly 

Silence, girl ! I have no time either for recrimination 
or discussion. I have time only to fly.” 

“Fly!" 

“ Heavy rewards are offered for me, dead or alive, 
by Bonaparte. But for your sake, Aliandra, I will 
break through the toils. By this hour to-morrow, I 
shall be far upon my way to the Tyrol, thence to 
Vienna. At the court of Austria ive shall find a certain 
refuge. " 

“We!” 

“Yes, for you go with me. Dost think I will not 
save you or die with you, when I have been patriot on 
account of you, to merit your approval, to win your 
love.?” 

“ My love ! ” Madre niia ; my love and Alian- 
dra burst into a mocking laughter that was half hyster- 
ical. 

“ A^es ! Have you not seen it in my eyes from the 
moment you became the fairest woman in the land.? 
Did not I, as your guardian, devote my life to building 
up your great fortune.? Did not I shield you from the 
world.? Did I not keep you secluded in these moun- 
tains among our peasants so no other man of your own 
rank or station could see and love the graces that 
charmed my eyes and fired my passion .? Has not each 
act of my life proved my adoration of you .? At the 
insult you underwent at the hands of those brutal 
French troopers — whose sword flew first from its scab- 
bard to avenge it .? Luca’s ! Who, in all the blood 
and death of these mountain combats, has kept you 
far from danger ; ay, even from alarm .? Luca I the 
man upon whom you are gazing with distrustful eyes. 
Adorata mta, can you not see that though my sword 
was drawn for Italy, it was drawn also {ovyo7i P That 
you are to me the earthly embodiment of the spirit of 
my country.? Love of my native land means love for 
you!’^ 

“ I — I might believe you did not I know you had re- 
ceived the Austrian gold,” muttered the girl sternly. 
Then she broke out at him pathetically, yet scornfully, 
“Ah, how could you do it .? You whom I once deemed 
so noble, so stainless in honor .? ” Then her voice grew 
cold and stern. “ It is well. Count Luca, that this is 


194 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


thy last night in Castle Campogiacinto. The home of 
our race has no place for such as you who took gold 
to arm Italy, yet squandered it at the gambling table 
and on the delights and allurements of the dancer, La 
Favorita, in Milan.” 

“La Favorita.? Diavolo ! I tell you it is false !” 
cried the man. “ How can you have the cruelty to 
speak thus to one who loves you as madly as I do .? 
But this is no time for words ; there is only time for 
action. We leave to night for the Tyrol. Lady Ali- 
andra, that white robe you have on, is the decking of 
my bride. The last of our retainers even now down 
there within the banquet hall are drinking to our happy 
nuptials ! ” 

“ Happy nuptials ” screamed the lady. 7'hen she 
gasped out as if it were incredible ; ‘‘To save my life I 
must be — your bride .? ” 

“Of course ! Your fair fame T must "uard. There 

o 

is a priest below. To save you from an ignominious 
death I must take you with me.” 

“ You jest ! ” the contessa said in a perplexed voice, 
then faltered, “ Death ! — at the hands of whom .? ” 

“At the hands of the French, fair cousin ! You 
have been a patriot. You have had your share in the 
pretty little fetes we provided for their entertainment.” 

“ But they cannot know that ! ” she cried. 

“Aye, but they do ! Your name is upon Bona- 
parte’s tablets prominent as one who stirred the peas- 
ants to revolt. A price is set upon your fair head. 
Your description can be read, placarded on the walls 
of Pavia and Milan. To such lengths are you sought, 
that an officer with a special mission has been intrusted 
with your capture. Wed me and I will save you. Ah ! 
you hesitate because we are cousins. ’Tis against the 
l)recei)ts of the Church that those of such near-by blood 
should marry. But behold! upon my breast I have a 
dispensation from the Pope of Rome permitting the 
wedding of Luca to his cousin Aliandra. Now come 
with me to the priest who is waiting to marry you to 
the man who will save your life I ” 

‘ ‘ Never I ” 

'Fhere was a tremulous despair in the girl’s voice 
that filled me with a sudden hope. 

Cautiously 1 pressed open the door. The sight with- 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


195 

in would have made any lover’s heart beat high and 
fast. Within a room lighted by several lamps, appar- 
ently from its luxurious hangings, delicate ornaments, 
and silken couches and cushions, the resting-place of 
beauty, stood the Count Luca, dressed for his nup- 
tials, not in the uniform of a soldier, but in the fashion 
of ilie court, ruffles and laces, and knee breeches and 
ribbon bows, and at his side the long rapier of the gen- 
tleman, not the saber of the trooper. 

Facing him, robed in virgin white from which sprang 
chiseled shoulders of gleaming snow and fair arms of 
exquisite grace was his cousin the Lady Aliandra. 
From the alabaster column of her neck to fairy feet, 
were the beauty-curves of a Venus outlined by drap- 
eries, soft and clinging ; above, a face haughty as a 
Juno’s, yet despairing as Niobe’s, the eyes shining 
with anger, yet dewy with despair, the exquisite lips 
red as rosebuds, yet curled in haughty scorn. 

“You refuse my offer though it means your life?” 
whispered the noble unbelievingly. 

“ Though I die, I’ll ne’er be wedded unto you!” 
said the girl slowly, yet determinedly. 

“ Gran Dio, then you must love another? ” 

At this Aliandra burst into a mocking, almost hys- 
terical laugh, while he, smiting his brow, muttered, 
“ No, no I that is impossible I My measures were too 
well taken in all these years. None but our rustic 
clowns, our peasants of the mountains, have ap- 
proached you, except, indeed, those accursed French 
chasseurs, two of whom I once thought you aided to 
escape from Giacomo.” 

As he spoke, my eyes were turned upon her face. 
Upon it gradually but slowly rose a flush, faintly at 
first, until it became radiant as the roses. 

And Luca saw this, too, for he cried out hoarsely : 
“Ah 1 what is this ? Basta ! Your eyes kindle 1 ” then 
smote his hands together and muttered, “What non- 
sense ! Impossible! You cannot have lost your heart to 
one of them. You do not answer ; your look is bent 
upon the floor ; you cannot meet my gaze. Corpo di San 
Marco f I believe by all the gods she loves the boy in 
uniform ! A villainous little French roue with a baby 
face, without mustache ! ” Then suddenly he jeered, 
“ But he cares no more for you than a rotten orange, 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


196 

mv proud contessa. Your preux chevalier now makes 
one of the worshipers that kiss the little feet of the 
courtesan La P'avorita. 

“It is not true! 1 don’t believe you!’’ cried the 
girl, with such sudden anger it made me joyous, though 
1 felt the stain her purity put upon me. Then she 
whispered: “You insult mQ, signor \ Leave my 
room ! ” 

Pier delicate hand was raised in warning; for, lured 
by her beauty, that might have driven any man to 
madness, Luca was approaching her. 

“ And yet,” he said, a strange sneer in his voice, “ I 
will forgive your passing penchant for this beast of a 
French cavalryman. I will still marry you. What is 
there left for you, poor outlaw, with the power of 
France against you, but to fly with me ! ” 

‘ ‘ An outlaw ! ” 

^'Yes. One that I have made.” 

“You?” 

“Of course! I love you so well I have made my 
fate and yours the same." 

“ You, who said you loved me ! ” 

“Yes, I! To Bonaparte himself I gave the infor- 
mation. To Bonaparte, who never forgets and never 
forgives. I love you so desperately that I Vv'ould unite 
our fates by the closest bonds, therefore, Aliandra, mi 
adorata, I have made you an outlaw like myself. My 
love places you in peril, but my love will save you. 
Proscribed, hunted, pursued, but still my own — 
Come to the priest, my Aliandra. At the altar ! ” 

“No, no! I cannot ! I — ” 

“As husband and wife we will escape together. 
Then, when the French have been swept away for- 
ever from this land, as they ultimately must be by the 
power of Austria, we will return, and in your great 
estates will be the lord and lady paramount of all the 
hills of Piedmont.” 

“ Pah ! your love is of the same order as your patri- 
otism ! always my estates!” jeered the girl in bitter 
scorn. “ Money ; always money ! For that you made 
me a patriot ; for that you would have me believe in 
the passion that destroys me ! And you, my guardian, 
did this thing. Luca, how could you wrong me so?” 

“Plow? Because all’s fair to such strong love as 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


197 


mine ! Why ! Because to-night I’ll prove to you that, 
though I’ve placed danger on you, I adore you. 
Quick, to the priest, my Aliandra ! Ah, anima mia when 
you see my passion, yours will flame up to it.” 

“Never!” cried the girl, her face aglow with 
blushes. “Speak thus to me again and I shall hate 
you I ” 

“ Then, if you’ll not yield to my love, you shall yield 
to my authority. I, your guardian, command you. 
To the priest, and bow your head in obedience to the 
man who has sworn you’ll call him husband ; aye, and 
love him as one, this very night — come 1 ” 

A faint, gasping shriek came from the trembling lips 
of her I worshiped. I sprang into the apartment. 

Count Luca had seized the girl by one of her white 
arms. Ere he could lay hand to his sword my fingers 
were at his throat. One vicious shake I gave him, 
then — fool that I was to loose my grip of him — I hurled 
him half-way across the room. 

“ Your pardon. Count Campogiacinto, ” I said as he 
brought up with a thud against the tapestry that 
covered the wall, “excuse my interfering, but this 
lady cannot be yours.” 

“She cannot, eh } ’ he yelled, reeling and holding one 
hand to his neck. “She cannot ! For what reason } ” 

“ Because she is my prisoner ! And you likewise for 
that matter. By order of General Bonaparte I arrest 
you both I ” 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

TWO MASTERS OF THE RAPIER. 

I THINK that before I spoke those last words, Count 
Luca had not recognized me. 

As he heard my voice, the Barbet chieftain gave a 
shout of surprise. “You.?” he cried with a strange 
venomous triumph in his voice. “My sans-culotte, 
French boy-lieutenant, you’re doomed I ” 

“Your sword, my dear count,” I uttered blandly. 
“You are under arrest, you know? ” 

“We’ll see about that,” he sneered. “How you 
came here, I know not. But, when you entered my 
castle, you destroyed yourself ! ” Then, with a move- 


198 THE GIFT OF BONAPARTF 

ment quick as the stroke of a snake, he disappeared 
into the draperies, against which I had been fool 
enough to throw him. 

With a bound I was after him, but only saw a dark 
and narrow stairway that could permit but one man’s 
passage, descending to the lower floor. Up this, now 
came to me the voice of Luca crying to his followers : 
“Quick, barricade the doors and lower gateway so 
that none of his men can enter to his aid. We have 
the French lieutenant in and trapped ! ” 

For the moment, pursuit of him was useless. I 
turned to the contessa. She had staggered against a 
table. Her exquisite face was very white ; her perfumed 
breath came and went in hurried gasps ; her lovely 
eyes were fixed upon me. In them, was an expression 
that I could not read. 

“You whose life I saved at the cost of my — my 
modesty — are the officer appointed to give me — mili- 
tary justice ! ” she whispered, a strange pathetic re- 
proach in her voice. 

I could not say the words ; for answer I merely 
bowed. 

“And you the man I ” — she burst out ; but checked 
herself, biting her lip until the blood came ; then 
added coldly yet falteringly : “That means I am your 
prisoner.? ” 

“Yes, Lady Aliandra, by order of General Bona- 
parte,” I whispered sadly. 

“You are to take me to — to his vengeance ? don’t 
shake your head. I know the mercy the French 
commander will show an Italian lady who raised an 
insurrection of peasants against the laws of war. 

Then she suddenly cried, sneeringly ! “But, I’d 
rather be your captive than to be Luca’s bride.” 

“ Believe me, I will take you to Bonaparte’s protec- 
tion, with every consideration,” I said, bowing. 

At this she burst into a jeering but despairing laugh, 
then muttered falteringly : “I am at your orders.” 

With trembling hands, I was about to throw my 
cloak over her white and shining shoulders, to protect 
my lovely captive from the night air, when the heavy 
footsteps of Bronsard sounded at the door. 

“Quick,” cried the mditre d'arrnes, saluting, “there 
is an alarm below ! ” 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 1 99 

“ I know it,” I answered, “it is LucaV, who has 
escaped me ! ” 

“Down that stairway?” asked the veteran. 

I nodded. 

Then we must have no attack in our rear ! Quick, 
Sans-barbe, help me block it up.” 

With ready hands and soldierly instinct, the mattre 
d'armes, and I both threw down the stairway, the 
lighter pieces of furniture in the room, then cushions, 
rugs and pillows to deaden pistol shots, next behind 
these, heavier articles ; some couches and several 
chests of drawers ; wedging these together with fagots 
which lay prepared on the open hearth. 

Then we closed the strong oaken door and shot the 
heavy bolts which secured it. Bronsard turned to me 
and remarked : Parbleu ! they will not get through 

that without a battering ram. Now, boy, come 
quick.” 

But this precaution had stolen from us much precious 
time. 

In a moment I had cloaked Lady Aliandra and with 
my arm about her slight waist half carried her into the 
main hall. But even as I did so a noise came to us 
through the great stairway running up from the ban- 
queting room that indicated Luca and his followers 
were now up and doing. 

“Tric-trac! Where is he?” I cried to Bronsard, 
hurriedly. 

“ He has gone to the rope ladder ! ” 

“Then we must follow him quick. Now Lady 
Aliandra, to take you out of Luca's power.” 

“Out of his power ? ” she said suddenly. “ Listen ! 
Does that sound as if you were done with him ? ” 

For at that instant there arose in our rear the clatter 
of numerous tramping feet approaching the great stair- 
way. 

“ Hurry, Poignet ! ” I whispered to Bronsard, 
“I’ll carry her down the rope ladder in my arms. 
Come ! ” 

“ Impossible ! ” answered the veteran turning back. 
“There’s no time for that. They will be after us and 
cut the ladder from its fastenings on the walls before 
we were half way down. We would all be dashed to 
pieces against the cliffs. I’ll stay here to keep this 


200 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


rabble back till you escape. Be careful, and don’t 
bruise your pretty prisoner’s limbs on the rope ladder. 
Get the lady safe to our general and give her to Bona- 
parte with mes adieux ! ” 

“You can’t defend these broad stairs alone !” I 
cried. “Poignet d’Acier, I stay with you.” As I said 
this my arm released the Lady Aliandra. I drew my 
saber. 

Parhleu, if you wish it, Georges ! I like good com- 
pany. It is what your father would have done, my 
boy,” and the old soldier patted my shoulder lovingly. 

“You knew my father?” I gasped. “Tell me of 
my birth.” 

“Peste ! Why think of birth when death is before 
us? We’ve time for nothing save to fight and die like 
soldiers of the Republic.” 

“Then, enavani!” I ordered. 

‘ ‘ Together, Georges ! ” said the old ^naiire d'armes. And 
together we stepped to the head of the stairway and 
peered down. Some ten steps of descent, a broad 
landing, then some fifteen more led to the stone floor 
of the great hall below. 

“We’ll hold them at the landing ! ” muttered D’Acier. 
We sprang down, and were just in time, for at the very 
foot of the stairway stood Luca with his peasants and 
his bandits. 

Confronted by us, they made pause, while I looked 
down upon a curious and impressive scene, 

A hall of vast extent, lighted by blazing flambeaux, 
stuck in brackets round its walls ; one torch between 
each of its lofty gothic windows. The oak-beams, dark 
with age, of the high-arched Gothic roof indicated that 
this had been the banquet hall of the Campogiacintos 
from feudal times. Its appointments told the story of 
its ancient grandeur. On the walls behind the pillars, 
hung trophies of war and of the chase coming down 
from the middle ages ; suits of armor, plate and mail, 
weapons of every date and description ; skins of wild 
boars, pelts of great brown bears ; the heads of ant- 
lered stags, stuffed eagles, and other birds of prey ; 
even beside me on the landing, within hand reach, 
stood a case of weapons, sabers, rapiers, halberds and 
Spanish pikes in use a hundred years before. 

From this my eyes, glancing to the floor again, could 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


201 


see two oaken tables covered with remnants of a rugged 
banquet. Of meat and wine there was a plenty, though 
but little else. Beside them overturned chairs, thrown- 
down goblets of pewter, silver, and quaint Venetian 
glass, antique stools tossed to one side, platters of 
half-devoured meat, all showed that Lucas followers 
had been hurriedly called from their merry carouse in 
honor of the coming bride, to capture the two soldiers 
who now stared at them from the landing, some fifteen 
feet above their heads. 

In the background peasant women, from one of the 
great openings of the room peered with pale faces 
cautiously in. With them stood a pallid-faced friar, 
who, doubtless, had been summoned to make my 
lovely prisoner Count Luca’s bride. Nearer to us, at 
the foot of the stairs, tramping with their great feet 
the massive flagstone floor fixed by the wear of cen- 
turies, was Count Luca and as savage a crowd of 
bravos as ever cut a throat or butchered a convoy, 
though a few of them seemed honest mountaineers 
and dogged peasants. 

Little time was given me to admire them. The 
Barbets were too near. The foremost, a gigantic 
figure of a man waving a heavy saber, was in the act 
of springing upon the staircase. I aimed to plant my 
bullet between his eyes — but held my fire. I knew 
the face. 

“Back, Rocco ! ” I cried impulsively. “For the 
sake of your old mother, let some one else come 
first ! ” 

The young giant stopped as if some great unseen 
hand had held him fast in his tracks. 

^'Diavolof” he called out, “I know that voice. I 
could never forget it ! ’Tis the girl-faced soldier who, 
nevertheless, killed his dog comrade at my mother’s 
cottage ! ” 

“Since you know me, keep back. I don’t want 
your blood on my hands,” I warned him again. 

“Nor do I wish you to have it there. Besides, 
since you, there no hurry. The contessa is in no 
danger, my brothers,” he cried, turning to the rest, 
“ This soldier once braved a dozen of his comrades for 
her sake. ” 

Amazed the Italians stopped and hesitated. The 


202 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


voice of Count Luca sharply recalled them to their 
senses. 

“ They intend to hold the stairs/' he cried. ‘ ‘ Gran 
Dio! Riddle them both and make — Hold! Thunder 
of heaven I let no one dare to pull trigger I Are you 
mad, Aliandra 1 Away from there, do you hear ! To 
your room, girl, you cannot save him ! Hold your 
fire, I tell you men, a ball might strike her!'' 

“I will not go back, Luca;" came in the sweet 
voice of \\iQ,contessa from behind me. “No, Monsieur 
Luc, not for you either 1 If I stand here, they will not 
dare to shoot you ! " 

Something in her voice made me love my life as I 
had never thought to love it. 

“They will have to depend on their swords, you and 
your comrade will still have some chance 1 " cried the 
girl excitedly. 

“ What 1 are you on their side, Aliandra ! " came to 
us in the astonished cry of Rocco from below. 

“They are my friends, Rocco, they fight for me/’ 
she answered. 

“Then I fight for you also!" shouted the young 
mountaineer rushing up to where we stood. 

“He means it, believe me; trust him! don’t kill 
him ! " Aliandra faltered. 

“We believe you, mademoiselle \ muttered the 
maitre d'armes. 

“You shall act as our reserve, Rocco," I hastily told 
him. “ I'll keep the right of the staircase ; Renaud, 
you answer for the left. Do you stand between us, a 
pace to the rear. If one of them succeeds in passing 
our front see that he does no harm." 

A nod and a grin from the son of Giannetta assured 
me that he understood my orders. Then I turned my 
eyes to the Barbets, who, clustered about Count Luca 
and Giacomo, were cursing the traitor. 

“ Short work, my men ! " cried Luca, as his followers 
formed in column of threes, displaying in the action 
more military training than I had supposed them to 
possess. 

Without question, they were enemies not to be 
laughed at. Lowering, vindictive, their bearded faces 
showed by the light of the torches, the brawny arms, 
revealed by their rolled-back sleeves, gave promise of 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


26 ^ 


abundant strength to wield the glittering sabers and 
cutlasses they held. 'Twas plain that stern work lay 
before us. 

“Fire in turn, Renaud,” I warned the maitre d'armes. 
“We must not waste a bullet.” 

The shout of Count Luca’s command rang through 
the hall, and his followers charged silently upon the 
staircase. 

My first shot brought down the man on my side of 
the leading three, as they reached the foot of the 
ascent. Five steps up and the outward file on the op- 
posite flank fell before the pistol of Poignet d’Acier. 
Upon the landing, the last of those who headed the 
column received my second bullet. Again the mattre 
d'armes fired with deadly effect, and then there was 
only time for steel. The space we defended was wide 
enough to give free swing to our weapons. The 
Italians charged it with desperate fury ; but they had 
to deal with the best swordsman of the Army of Italy 
and his favorite pupil. 

The first who came at me, run through the chest, 
rolled back down the stairs. Two supplied his place 
on the instant, hacking and stabbing at me together. 
I gave back a step. Two swift passes and a straight 
thrust in tierce rid me of one. As my blade passed 
through his. body the Barbets broke and hastily re- 
coiled down the stairs. 

That the maitre d'armes had been busy, the writhing 
forms that littered the steps before him amply proved. 

Parbleu! Georges,” he laughed as our enemies fell 
back. “If Count Luca keeps this up much longer 
we’ll soon be able to fight on equal terms ! ” 

And Count Luca meant to keep it up ! With savage 
reproaches and frenzied curses he encouraged his men, 
and ere we had time to reload our pistols they rushed 
again to the onset. I saw the head of Renaud’s first 
adversary swept clean off his shoulders by an exqui- 
sitely scientific side cut. As I engaged the man who 
fell to me, another Barbet dropped under Poignet 
d’Acier's terrible blade, and at the same time one of his 
comrades dashed between us. Scarcely had my brain 
received the fact when I caught a glimpse of his horrible 
countenance as he rolled dead to the ready weapon of 
the peasant Rocco. I stretched my opponent beside 


204 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


him ; yet before the rush of the rest both Renaud and 
myself were borne back. 

Then upon that landing of the stairs ensued a strug- 
gle grim and bloody. With the energy of men who 
tight for life we struck and warded, lunged and 
guarded in sullen silence. The crowding mass of our 
assailants that for the moment had had its effect, now 
hampered their movements. Fiercely we plied them 
and though the Barbets were brave, they could not ad- 
vance farther. They fought well, but one after an- 
other their most daring spirits sank to the floor. The 
perspiration was rolling across my face and my sword- 
arm was aching sadly when they hesitated and ceased 
to press us. With one stern shout that seemed to 
burst by common impulse from our panting lungs we 
leaped at them and hurled them down the stairs once 
more. Gasping, breathless, yet still victorious, we ex- 
changed hearty grips of the hand. 

^‘You are a man, Rocco ! ” the maitre cTarmes vc- 
marked quietly to the mountaineer, then smiled grimly 
at Count Luca who one moment was appealing to his 
band, the next was imploring Aliandra to leave the 
upper stairway from which, leaning against the marble 
balustrade like a statue, she had gazed upon the 
combat. 

“ Aliandra, to thy chamber ! " he cried, command- 
ingly. “For the Virgin, step from the line of fire 
so without danger to you we dare use bullets on 
these men who slay us. Mt adorata ! can't you see 
that villain Frenchman is taking you to the vengeance 
of the French } " 

In answer, her voice rang clear and disdainful : 
“ Better the punishment of Bonaparte than to be the 
bride of Luca ! " 

At this the count uttered an awful cry ! 

‘ ‘ The sans culotte fiend is taking her to be the prey of 
his general!" he screamed, “and madre inia, she is 
willing to go I " 

Despite the wrongs this man had done my comrades, 
his grief and despair, told in the excitable manner these 
Italians have, almost made me pity him. 

He clapped his hands together and implored his 
beaten bandits to make in upon us again, crying : 
“Save your mistress, curs, from French outrage I Gran 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


205 

Dio I save your beloved lady from the pollution of 
Bonaparte 1 ” 

At this the girl, though she still kept her post, ut- 
tered a sob of affrighted modesty, and clasped her 
hands upon her burning face and bowed her head ; as 
moved by his appeals, the unfortunate bravos a third 
time stormed our position. 

While Luca had argued and implored we had re- 
charged our firearm The volley that met them was 
itself sufficient to break their charge. They scattered 
and gave back ere they were half-way up the steps. 

The rage of Count Luca was indescribable. He 
cursed his discouraged minions by all the saints in the 
calendar. 

“You cowards ! you miserable cowards ! ” he yelled. 

“ Hola ! monsieur le comte, not so fast there,” Poi- 
gnet d’Acier called out as the Barbet chieftain paused 
for breath. “ ’Tis easy enough for you to storm at the 
poor devils ! Hadj/ow tried our mettle as closely as 
they have, mayhap you’d be more of their way of 
thinking.” 

“You mean by that ” Count Luca cried savagely. 

“That it doesn’t sound well for you to call your 
ragamuffins ‘cowards' when you take precious good 
care not to venture your own skin,” the mattre d'armes 
retorted. 

The count returned no immediate answer to his taunt. 

With folded arms he gazed at us for a time and then 
began pacing the floor. We watched his tall figure by 
the lessening blaze of the flambeaux that, unfed and 
neglected, were momentarily decreasing in brightness. 
At length he appeared to have arrived at a satisfactory 
solution of the problem before him. 

Advancing slowly to the foot of the stairs he called 
in a voice from which every trace of anger had dis- 
appeared : 

“I have a proposition to make you, lieutenant, — for 
I believe that I must give you that rank now,” he 
added with a smile. 

“Quite correct, monsieur” I answered. “Say 
on.” 

“The matter between us two had better be settled 
to-night once for all,” he continued. “ Had you con- 
trived to hold me in arrest, Bonaparte would have 


2o6 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


finished your work for you. Had you and your com- 
rade been worse swordsmen than you are, my fol- 
lowers had done as much for me. Let us terminate 
the affair ourselves, since others are not likely to 
conclude it.” 

“And how.?” I demanded. 

‘ ‘ By fighting it out until one of us dies. I am 
armed with but a rapier. Seize a similar weapon from 
the stand beside you. Descend to the hall and I 
swear to you that you will be met only by my single 
blade. If you conquer me you shall be at liberty to 
depart unharmed. Giacomo will see that my order 
to that effect is obeyed. You hear, Giacomo.?” 

I laughed as the innkeeper grunted assent. 

“Fools are not wont to ride with my regiment, my 
dear count,” I cried. “Your proposition is tempting, 
but I must decline it. We stay where we are. If you 
are inclined to come to us, en avant. We'll make you 
welcome.” ^ 

But Poignet d’Acier interposed. “With your per- 
mission, my officer,” he said, “1 will avenge upon this 
man the treacherous doing to death of our comrades 
at the inn of Giacomo.” Without waiting for my 
word, he tore from the stand beside us, a rapier of 
Spanish make, and causing his blade to form a half 
circle from the flagging to his hand, laughed, “As 
good a Toledo as 1 ever grasped. At your service, 
Monsieur le Comte ! ” then begged eagerly : 

“Accept, Georges, accept! ” 

So after a short discussion of the conditions of the 
combat the matter was decided. Giacomo swore by 
the Virgin that should Count Luca fall, no hand would 
be raised to prevent our departure. 

“Take care of your mistress, Rocco 1 ” I whispered. 
Then Poignet d'Acier and I came down the stairs, for 
I had determined to guard him from treacherous as- 
sault by others of Count Luca’s band. 

As they fronted each other under the blaze of the 
flambeaux, methought all the beauties who had gazed 
in that grand banquet hall, upon the heroes of the age 
of chivalry, could scarce have beheld a more martial 
pair of champions. 

Count Luca had removed his coat and waistcoat, and 
his shirtsleeve was rolled high up on his right arm, 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


207 


leaving it bare to the shoulder. Save discarding his 
shako and saber-belt, Poignet d’Acier had made no prep- 
arations for the combat. 

Stamping his foot Count Luca placed himself on 
guard. 

With stern politeness Poignet d'Acier made him a 
fencing-room salute. 

Neither wasted time in “ feeling” the powers of his 
antagonist. Instantly Luca feinted and lunged sav- 
agely in high tierce. The riposte of Poignet d’Acier 
was swift and true, but the Italian joined to the eye of a 
tiger a wrist of steel, and the point of the niaitre d’armes 
he turned aside. 

Back the count came again to the lunge ; again his 
thrust failed and again he parried the counter of his 
opponent. A close rally followed, while the blades 
changed from side to side of each other so swiftly that 
the eye could not follow them, yet neither man was 
touched. It ended by a straight lunge from Luca 
that the maiire cC arrnes evaded by a rapid side-step, and 
again they were at the guard. 

To it they went afresh, feigning and parrying, thrust- 
ing and guarding with such ferocity that it seemed at 
every pass as if one or both must fall. The red light 
of the torches caught the steel of the rapiers and turned 
them into blades of fire. The two men sought each 
other’s lives with weapons of flame. At times a blaz- 
ing streak would dart from the hand of one straight at 
the breast of the other, deflect, pass on and spring 
back as the attempt was foiled. Once the point of 
Renaud Bronsard whipped in over Count Luca’s guard 
like the tongue of a serpent ; but an agile backward 
leap saved the Barbet chieftain from the death it 
carried. 

Throughout the great hall no sound was heard save 
the stamp of the duellists and the grinding clash of 
steel. Mute and absorbed in the combat, I and the 
banditti were motionless, gazing alike with bated 
breaths upon the prowess and peril of our respective 
champions. Though both fought with the same dead- 
ly intent to slay, there was a marked difference in the 
demeanor of the combatants. 

With the energy of hatred betokened in every line of 
form and countenance, Count Luca wielded his rapier. 


2o8 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


Ilis eyes blazed like diamonds set in the enamel of 
his white face, upon his thin lips there sat a savage, 
ill-boding smile, and his graceful body appeared as if 
likely to be rent asunder from the force with which he 
sent in his lunges. Superbly as he fenced, every move- 
ment in his brilliant swordsmanship carried with it the 
impression that the man was putting forth all his en- 
ergies, that he was drawing upon forces that must in 
time become exhausted. 

Renaud Bronsard, on the contrary, appeared to be 
totally free from emotion. Resolute and intrepid in- 
deed he looked, but that was the ordinary expression 
of the valiant 77iaitre cTarnies of the regiment Damre- 
mont. Though his passes were fully as well meant as 
those of his opponent, they apparently cost him much 
less effort. He fenced with the method and accuracy 
of some deadly machine. The spring of his lunges 
never bore his right foot an inch too far to the front, 
his steady eyes stared into the fierce orbs of Count 
Luca with unchanging, impassive watchfulness, and 
the guards that turned aside the hostile blade were 
never a hair’s breadth too wide. 

Indeed it seemed to me that Poignet d’Acier had 
fallen into the error of parrying too closely. At the end 
of a puzzling series of feints and thrusts, Count Luca 
hurled himself forward with the energy of a demon, 
putting all the power in his frame behind his point. 
The end of the rapier ground to the sharpness of a 
needle, ripped a long gash in the breast of the green 
jacket and grazed Renaud Bronsard’s chest. 

His narrow escape from death in no away affected 
the mattre d'armes, his eye was cold and his wrist as 
firm as ever. But a new might seemed to swell the 
muscles and inspire the heart of Campogiacinto. Closer 
and closer he pressed, engaging the weapons to the 
very guards, yet protecting himself with a skill that 
seemed more than human. Before his assault Poignet 
d’Acier was gradually forced back. Little by little he 
gave ground, circling imperceptibly to the right and 
rear. Presently they had almost changed positions, 
and though Count Luca had faced me when the duel be- 
gan my eyes now rested on the white shirt that covered 
his back. 

For the first time since their weapons crossed, doubt 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 209 

sprang up in my heart. Could it he that Poignet d'Acier 
had tnet his match ? 

The point of the mattre d'armes sunk to a feint in 
low tierce, shifted over the hostile blade to a thrust in 
carte, and was deftly turned aside by the pliant wrist 
of Count Luca. To the upper guards the rapiers 
flamed again, the steel of Renaud Bronsard played 
about the weapon of his adversary with the dazzling 
rapidity of lightning flickering along the horizon on a 
sultry summer evening, and then in perfect time with 
hand and foot the whole body of the maitre d'armes 
shot forward to the lunge. With the action, two feet 
of thin, reeking steel seemed to spring out between the 
shoulders of Campogiacinto, showed for a second, and 
vanished as Poignet d’Acier swung back into position 
as if moved by accurately balanced machinery. 

The rapier fell from Count Luca’s hand, he plunged 
to the left for three reeling paces, then, with a mut- 
tered gasping sigh, crashed heavily down upon the 
pitiless stone flags that paved the hall. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

AGRICOLA DOES HIS GRAND ACT. 

Suddenly I shouted with all the energy in my lungs, 
“ To the stairs, Renaud. They mean mischief ! ” For 
the fight had drawn us well into the hall. At the fall 
of his master Giacomo had raised a shrill scream and 
was leaping toward us across the flagging, followed by 
the rest of the Barbets. 

Renaud Bronsard did not even turn his head, but 
acted upon my warning immediately. As he came 
abreast of me H thrust his saber into his hand and 
rushed for the staircase a couple of paces in his rear. 

The dawn had stolen upon us unawares and from 
the last great window toward the south, in the eastern 
wall, a broad patch of gray light fell across the flags, 
contrasting curiously with the bloody glare of the 
torches. As I crossed it I slipped and fell at full length, 
bruising my body sadly against the unyielding stones. 

I was scrambling to my feet, when Giacomo, bran- 

14 


210 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


dishing a heavy cutlass, rushed upon me with the 
fury of a madman, a score of bounds ahead of his at- 
tendant bandits. 

My saber had escaped my hand in my fall, but the 
knot about my wrist had prevented my losing it. Into 
my grasp I twitched the hilt and, still kneeling, was 
upon my guard. I met and parried his first sweeping 
cut, which descended straight from above like a 
thunderbolt. Sacre f but the old villain was strong ! 
My fingers tingled and my arm stung to the elbow. 

The cutlass rose in the air again, falling in another 
downward blow, that, beating down my saber, drove 
it from my grasp. Disarmed, I strove to spring from 
my knees at the bandit’s throat, but the innkeeper, 
who seemed to have a giant’s strength, held me off 
with one arm, and with the other raised his weapon to 
give me death. 

T'he flashing steel was in my eyes ; a faint cry pierc- 
ing the air came from the lips of Aliandra — when sud- 
denly — there was a noise upon the stairs above, a 
huge, ungainly hairy shape sprang nimbly through the 
crowd of astonished Barbets, a great hairy hand up- 
raised above me plucked the saber from the astonished 
Giacomo and dragged him from me. This was ac- 
companied by a rumbling inhuman roar. 

The excited peasants halted in their rush, shrinking 
back with frightened ejaculations and cries of super- 
stitious dismay. 

I myself, overcome by amazement, staggered up, 
then stood as if rooted in my tracks. Between us in 
the unearthly light engendered by the mingling of the 
pale beams of the rising sun and the red rays of the 
burning flambeaux, the innkeeper was struggling 
furiously in the mighty arms of the ape Agricola. 
Like one in a dream I watched the terrible conflict that 
was in progress within three yards of where I stood. 

I could hear the panting breaths drawn by Giacomo, 
the vindictive oaths he never ceased to mingle with his 
efforts to tear himself free. At intervals, too, boomed 
forth the sullen, chattering growl of the ape. Clasped 
in his awful embrace I judged that there could be little 
chance for the landlord. 

Meanwhile there was the tramp of booted feet along 
the stone passage-way above. The welcome column of 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


21 1 


my gallant green-clad chasseurs came swiftly springing 
down the long flight of steps. The voice of Pierre San- 
tron shouted “ Halt ! front ! ” and with rapid salute he 
turned over the command to me, then cried Diab/ef” 
For even the war-worn faces of my hardened veterans 
betrayed surprise at the strange combat between man 
and beast that now was going on so fast and furious 
upon the flagging of that giant hall. As for the Barbets 
they were as if turned to stone. They must have 
taken the appearance of the monkey as a direct visita- 
tion of heaven, a punishment sent by God upon 
Giacomo for violating the oath he had sworn not to 
molest us in case Count Luca fell. 

With affrighted eyes and trembling limbs they 
gazed at their leader’s despairing fight for life. 

Agricola raised one huge paw and brought it down 
upon the white-locked head. Screaming hoarsely to 
the saints, Giacomo reeled and tottered, the ape above 
him, jibbering with rage. 

The walls that held us seemed to fling back with 
pitiless glee the noise the beast and his victim made in 
their fall. Though prone bn the floor the old innkeeper 
did not immediately succumb. For some moments his 
shocking execrations rang in our ears, changing finally 
into piercing shrieks of terror and appeals for aid wild 
and fear-stricken as the yells of some tortured soul 
from the lowest depths where dwell the damned ; 
the rattle of his boot-heels beating a horrible tattoo 
upon the pavement sounded a sharp accompaniment 
to the expiring cries that grew feebler with every in- 
stant. Of a sudden they ceased— the hoarse jibbering 
of the ape became a scream of triumph. 

Chasseurs I thundered, attention to the com- 
mand to fire I Aim, — ^re I ” 

The carbines spoke, the hall was filled with smoke 
and the screams 'of the stricken Barbets. 

“ Upon them now. Take them alive if you can, but 
slay all who resist,” I ordered. 

Short work did my willing cavalrymen make of the 
remnant of Count Luca’s band. Dismayed and cowed, 
the bandits who had escaped the volley were quickly 
secured. Among the prisoners was Pippo, the last re- 
maining son of Giacomo. 

“Well done, Pierre Santron,” I cried, clapping that 


212 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


red-polled sergeant heartily upon the back. “Thy 
march to our rescue, I shall not forget in my report, be 
assured.'" 

“Tric-trac must come in for a share of the praise, 
Sans-barbe. Had he not hastened to meet us and show 
us the road we'd still be on the way," Santron rejoined. 

“And Citizen Agricola should have thy best thanks, 
Georges," put in Poignet d'Acier who just then joined 
us. “ Giacomo had done for thee without the ape." 

“ True enough, Renaud," I owned. “Thedevotion 
of sincere friendship I henceforth swear to Monsieur 
Agricola." 

“.Giacomo must have been one of those who beat 
Agricola. The ape is a beast of most tender honor ! " 
laughed the matire d’armes. 

But I answered him not. My gaze was on the Lady 
Aliandra. The girl seated upon the stone floor, was 
supporting in her lap the head of the Count Luca Cam- 
pogiacinto, who appeared to be sunk in a swoon. By 
her side Tric-trac had taken his position, and was bend- 
ing eagerly forward to watch the death-damp gather 
upon the brow of the man he hated most on earth. 
A few feet away crouched the great ape, with crimsoned 
paws and ensanguined muzzle. Beyond, near the table, 
a group of chasseurs surrounding the Barbet prison- 
ers, now securely bound, gazed with silent interest 
upon the strange scene, plain and clear under the glare 
of the torches that still flamed from the iron brackets 
on the pillars. 

Aided by the priest who had joinSd her, the lovely 
rontessa strove to bring back --o life the dark spirit of 
her cousin. For a long time her efforts were fruitless. 
A faint movement of the heart and occasionally a 
scarcely perceptible gasping sigh alone told that Count 
Luca still belonged to the world. 

“It seems to be of no use. Monsieur Luc," she said 
tearfully, raising her swimming eyes to mine. “Oh ! 
it is terrible that he should die thus unshriven and un- 
repentant ! I would not have it so. Can you do nothing 
to aid me ? " 

“Let me try my hand, contessa," Poignet d’Acier 
said, advancing, and placing his hand upon the icy 
forehead of the count. 

As if his body unconsciously rebelled at the touch 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 213 

of the man before whose deadly rapier he had fallen 
Count Luca stirred. 

His head twitched aside from the fingers of the 
rnaltre d’armes, a spasm contorted the muscles of his 
face, he opened his eyes and rolled them vacantly 
about him. — Then, even as the priest made sign of the 
cross over him, a terrible cry of hopeless, impenitent 
fury was rent from his pierced chest, and the last of 
the Barbet chieftains lay cold and motionless forever 
beneath the roof of his ancestors. 

Gazing at the corpse of his foe, the juggler moaned to 
me: “Alas! my enemy never knew that it was to 
me — a man he thought already in the grave by his 
treachery — he owed his ruin and his death. Then Tric- 
trac burst forth in horrible bitterness, '' Mishicorde I 
My vengeance vvill now forever be incomplete ! ” 
Turning from the mountebank’s face of cruel passion 
I gave a shudder, /had a cruel duty to perform to the 
woman I loved — my prisoner I 

Stepping to her as she stood weeping by her guard- 
ian’s body, — for women forgive even crime ifocaused 
by love of them, — I gently drew her away. 

“We will leave here,” I murmured, “ as soon as the 
horses can be brought up.” 

“A-a-h,”she looked at me for a moment uncom- 
prehendingly, then suddenly my meaning burst upon 
her. “Yes, I understand!” she whispered “I am 
your captive, I must go with you. ” 

“ Those were orders from headquarters, but first I 
pray you go to your room where you can take rest 
and refreshment before your journey.” 

Stooping and giving the lips of the dead man one 
kiss, she turned and with a sigh accompanied me. 
Each movement of her exquisite body had now a sad 
grace, that made me tender to her. 

“If you will give me your parole. Lady Aliandra,” 
I ventured, as I strode beside her, “to remain under 
my charge until I have delivered you to Bonaparte, 
rescue or no rescue, you will be absolutely free from 
all surveillance from my men, or unasked attention 
from me, until I have fulfilled my mission and sur- 
rendered you to my general.” 

Suddenly a flash of intelligence lighted her piquant 
face, the girl turned inquiring eyes upon me. 


214 GIFT OF BONAPARTF 

“You are the officer specially charged to capture 
me ? ” She asked hurriedly. 

“Yes, mademoiselle I '' I faltered. 

“You accepted the order ; you, the man who said he 
loved — *' she checked herself and drew herself up 
haughtily ; though tears stood in her grand eyes and 
her red lips were whimpering. 

You will give me your parole ? ” I begged. 

Never!” She drew herself up like a queen. “It is 
an insult for a man of your class to ask oath from a 
woman of my rank. Never, citizen ! ” 

“Then, Lady Aliandra, you force me to place a 
sentry at the door of your chamber,” I faltered, with 
thick tongue, and downcast, haggard eyes. “Please 
give me your word ! ” 

We were already at the entrance of her boudoir. 
The girl turned upon me with flashing eyes. Stand- 
ing wdthin the doorway, she cried in hasty anger : 
“Never ! ” 

I bowed before her. 

“Still any wish except your personal liberty, will 
be my command,” I muttered hanging my head. 

“Then please permit me the attendance of my 
maid.” 

“She shall be sent to you, mademoiselle.'* 

“Also grant a decent burial to m.y dead relative 
below.” 

“It shall be done ! But for God’s sake ! ” I pleaded, 
“give me your parole. Don’t force me to make a 
captive of the 'woman I — ” 

“Of la Contessa Campogiacinto 1 ” she uttered 
haughtily, then whispering with haughty anger, ‘ ‘ Give 
my word to a sans-culotte ? Never 1 ” She stepped 
into her chamber and the door closing after her, shut 
out the presence that I loved. 

With heavy heart I turned away and shortly finding 
the peasant girl who waited on Aliandra, sent her to 
her mistress with every dainty that I could find within 
the castle-larder. Then acting on my promise, I gave 
proper funeral to the remains of Luca Campogiacinto, 
and as soon as this was over, reminded by Poignet 
d’Acier of my orders as to captive bandits, I sent the 
prisoners of Luca s band after their late leader. It was 
done in the angle of the wall where we had entered 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 21 5 

the place, the rope ladder furnishing nooses In abun- 
dance. 

This being over I allowed the chasseurs to rest ; but 
after the sun had passed the meridian, I ordered a 
dozen files to return to our mountain bivouac and to 
bring back with them our horses ; for the march to 
my rescue had been made on foot. 

Then I passed a miserable hour. She was my pris- 
oner, and I, who loved her, the instrument that would 
lead her to punishment. My spirits were not raised 
by the remarks of honest peasant Rocco, who saun- 
tered to me and chatted of the being I loved, telling me 
of her goodness to the peasants, of the noble nature of 
his foster-sister. 

Diahle ! how she pleaded for your life even after 
the fearful insult of your fellows, Signor Luc, when 
Giacomo proposed putting you all to death,” the boy 
remarked. 

“Yes, I know,” I muttered. Then anxious to get 
rid of the torturing babble of the peasant lad, I strolled 
out on the ramparts. 

Here my men, in the careless manner of soldiers were 
making a hero of the giant ape. 

^'■Parbleu! Tric-trac,” guffawed Santron, “ that was 
a grand act of Citizen Agricola. But he will require a 
new actor to play the scene with him every time he 
gives a performance.” 

Their mirth jarred on me. 

Soon I must set out to carry the woman I loved to 
the merciless Bonaparte, who forgave no one of those 
who had aroused the peasants and thus delayed his 
operations against the Austrians. What punishment 
would he decree for the beautiful contessa P What 
fate awaited Aliandra } 

“She saved my life twice. He shall not harm her ! 
He shall not ! ” I muttered to myself. “If all other 
means fail I will try Ihis ! ” 

By the tricolor, there was mutiny in my thoughts ! 
I found myself grasping the handle of my saber ! 


2i6 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


CHAPTER XXV. 

NOT TO THE MARQUIS — TO THE MAN ! 

Two hours after this the detachment returned with 
our horses. Ordering my men to lunch, I directed that 
additional refreshment be carried to the coniessa. 

I must get to Milan as soon as possible. On that 
point my orders were imperative ; besides there might 
be danger of ambush in the mountains if I delayed too 
long. Therefore, some few minutes after, I ascended 
the stairs and knocked at the door of Lady Aliandra. 

“Who is there the voice I loved most on earth 
cried from within. 

“It is I, 7nademoiseUe," I answered. “I come to 
request that in an hour you will be ready for the road. 
Doubtless you have a riding-habit.? 

“ And in that case, monsieur — pardon, I should say 
citizen, I suppose." 

“ You will please don it for the journey. There are 
no carriages in the stables and in consequence you 
must travel on horseback. 

“Your prisoner will obey your will, citizen. Please 
leave me, I have much to make ready in the short 
space you allow me." 

Returning to the hall I was accosted by Sergeant 
Pierre Santron. 

“All is prepared for our departure, lieutenant," he 
reported. Then, dropping his official tone for the 
familiar speech of an old comrade, “ Thy visit to the 
beauty up yonder was but brief, Sans-barbe. She'd 
not let thee console her, eh .? Morhleu, a pity that such a 
grand bit of Eve’s flesh should be left alone here in 
this pile of old rocks ! " 

“Which will not happen, so don’t waste thy sym- 
pathy," I returned. “When we leave she goes with 
us. A prisoner she is, Pierre Santron, by express order 
of the Little Corporal. And so, sergeant, you will have 
an eye upon her and take the greatest care that she has 
no opportunity to escape ! " I ordered sharply. 

For even then I had a wild and desperate idea in my 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


217 

head. Apparent sternness to my captive might pre- 
vent suspicion of me by my men. 

The last words, uttered in the curt accents of duty, 
Pierre Santron was not the man to let go unheeded, 

When the coniessa at last came down the staircase, 
arrayed in a riding-dress that made her doubly ador- 
able, kept by a feeling of delicacy, I made no undue 
haste to approach my beautiful prisoner ; though the 
sergeant was prompt in meeting her at the bottom. I 
noticed that he carried a small coil of stout cord, still 
I did not suspect his intention. I was not long to re- 
main in ignorance. 

“ You’re here at last, then,” he cried roughl)^ “I’ve 
orders from the lieutenant to make you safe, so prepare 
to be tied immediately.” 

She turned deadly white, and flashed an amazed and 
reproachful look in my direction. With the mien of a 
captive goddess she extended her tender wrists. 

No, you little rebel ! Put your hands behind your 
back, so I can truss you up like a pullet going to mar- 
ket,” Santron commanded. 

“Gently there, sergeant!” I screamed running for- 
ward, then commanded, hoarse with rage : “You may 
retire for a few moments. I have a word to say to 
the prisoner.” 

He hulked away, and Aliandra turned upon me in a 
rush of scorn. 

“You may spare your words. I guess what you 
would say, monsieur. Your brutal demonstration of 
your power has made me know you. It will be use- 
less for you to try threats to obtain the love I would 
not accord to your entreaties. Take me to General 
Bonaparte with all speed, I say. I am nerved to meet 
him. You I would not hold viler than I do now, for I 
— no matter, only be sure you cannot move me from 
my resolution.” 

‘‘ The proposal I have to make you is not what you 
imagine, Lady Aliandra,” I replied coldly. “It is 
simply that you give me your word to accompany us 
as our prisojier, rescue or no rescue. In that case no 
restraint will you have to undergo. I would make the 
march as light as possible for you. Therefore, again 
I ask for your parole.” 

“ That I refuse to give to the slave of the tyrant ! ” 


2i8 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


“But you shall not,” I cried imploringly. You 
must give it.” 

“ I must P For what reason .? ” 

“ For the reason that I love you.’^ 

^ ‘ Bah ! By every path you would arrive at the same 
end, I see, citizen,’' she retorted bitterly. “ love 
me! You! a soldier of Bonaparte You! one of the 
off-scouring who assassinated their king ! You, whose 
black blood flowed in the sedges of an ignoble peas- 
antry, aspire to me, the daughter of a race of nobles ! ” 
“Your word, contessa,” I murmured patiently. 

“ I will not give it. Call your brute of a sergeant, 
that he may truss me like a pullet — those were his 
words, I believe. The pledge of Aliandra di Campo- 
giacinto is not to be held by such canaille as you ! ” 
The quick-eared Renaud Bronsard was standing not 
many yards away. Several long strides placed him 
beside us. 

“What is all this that I hear.?” he inquired, gazing 
intently into my crimsoned face. “Dost love her, 
Georges, this woman here .? ” 

“Aye, that I do, Renaud,” I answered, “ but — ” 
^‘Tell her so, then, and let’s have the men mount. 
Thou canst ride by her side and say all thy pretty 
speeches on the road.” 

“ Tis no question of that, Renaud,” I burst out. “ I 
wish her to give parole, and she refuses.” 

“ On what grounds .? ” the mattre d’armes demanded. 
“Because I am not noble. She holds that one of 
her rank would too highly honor a soldier of the repub- 
lic in stooping to grant him a promise.” 

“Honor! Sang-dieu ! to think of that! You are 
of as high a race as this contessa, Georges, aye, of 
higher for that matter ! ” 

“ What!” I cried with sudden amazement, followed 
by swift conviction as Poignet d’Acier paused abruptly 
and bit his lip, like one who has caught himself in a 
mistake. You know my parents, Renaud.? I am 
sure of it! You have betrayed yourself ! Out with the 
story now, if ever thy Georges was dear to thee ! ” 

“ Since thou hast an inkling of the fact, 'tis plain Fd 
have no peace did I refuse,” he said slowly. “ I had 
thought to keep the secret and wait for the day when 
thou’dst be certain of coming to thine own. Mean- 


THE GIFT OF BONAFARTE 


219 


while thy rise in the profession of arms could do thee 
no harm. I have smiled often to myself, Georges, as 
I saw thee strive to play the sans-culoiie. ’Twas vain, 
boy, for thou’rt an aristocrat to the core. Thou art son 
to one of whom thou hast often heard me speak, of 
that captain under whom I served in the days when 
none but nobles held commissions in the army of 
France.” 

“ Thou’rt positive ! ” I cried. 

“ Certain as the victories of the Little Corporal. On 
the day when I saw thee first in Paris I knew in thee 
the look of my old commander. There’s a toss of 
the head, a curl of the lip I’d recognize anywhere. 
Thy chatter concerning the Rigauds put me upon 
the clue, and I made investigation, careful, legal. 
Thy parentage is proved and sworn to in the old no- 
tary Margon’s on the Rue St. Antoine. I did this for 
thee, Georges, before I left Paris for the Rhine cam- 
paign. Thy father foresaw the revolution. When the 
Bastile fell he put thee, for thy own safety, in charge of 
the woodcutter and his wife. The danger passed, he 
meant to reclaim thee, but he went to the guillotine 
during the Terror. Then those to whom he trusted 
thee turned harsh. The rest needs no telling.” 

His name, my father’s name, Renaud,” I de- 
manded. “Thou sayest he was of noble blood } ” 

“Of a lineage proud as the Rohans, lofty as the 
Montmorencies. Though but a lieutenant of chasseurs, 
thou’rt Georges Bertrand de Gontran, Marquis de St. 
Luc ! ” 

“Ah, ’twas ihat ih.o\i whispered to Bonaparte on the 
night I first saw him,” I rejoined. 

“Thou hast guessed, -Georges, ” the niaitre d’armes 
made answer. 

All at once my heart welled with self-reproach. 

“Wretch that I am!” I ejaculated. “I forget. 
Thou hast spoken of my father, Renaud Bronsard. 
What of my mother ? Where is she ? ” 

The matlre d'armes sunk his eyes to the con tempta- 
tion of his heavy boots. 

‘ ‘ Dost recall that thou once spoke to me of a woman, 
Georges, a woman whom thou sawest die under the 
guillotine while the hands of a complacent sans-culoiie 
held thee above the throng.^ Dost remember her, thy 


220 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


woman of the Place de la Revolution ? thy lady of the 
long, fair hair ? ’’ 

“ Aye, I remember. What of her.? ” I forced out the 
question in a voice that was barely a whisper. 

^‘She was thy mother, Georges, la Marquise de Si. 
Luc. There is no doubt, my proof is undeniable.” 

Abruptly I turned my face away, and stood with 
clenched hands and heaving chest. Great tears 
gathered in my eyes. She was my mother, that won- 
derful vision I had carried in my heart so long ! Even 
from her home among the angels she had cast her lov- 
ing care about her son ! She was my mother, grand 
Dieul She was my mother, and I had seen her mur- 
dered ! 

Then, the well-spring of my heart hardened by mili- 
tary routine, and brutalized by the carnage of war 
broke forth, and I, a stern trooper of Bonaparte, 
sobbed like an infant. 

A moment later a soft little hand was placed timidly 
upon my arm. 

“I give you my parole. I am your prisoner, res- 
cue or no rescue, monsieur ! ” the voice of the contessa 
said in low earnest tones. 

“So the Marquis de St. Luc is worthier to receive 
the word of Lady Aliandra than Lieutenant Sans-barbe, 
of the chasseurs-d-cheval P” 1 queried bitterly. 

‘‘Not to the marquis I give my word,” she answered 
softly, “but to the man! Gentle or peaseint, mon- 
sieur, you have a tender and a noble heart ! ” 

What I saw in her eyes just then I cannot picture. 
It is not within the power of man to describe that one 
look belonging to woman. 

But even as I gazed upon her, this awful thought 
struck down all joy. This beauty, these charms, this 
noble soul I must deliver to the mercy of a military 
despot who loves woman very ardently. 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


221 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

‘ ‘ MY DUTY OR HER SHAME ! ” 

Accepting her parole as joyfully as my aching- heart 
would allow, I had the men mount and gave the sig- 
nal for instant departure. 

Our fresh and vigorous steeds bore us speedily out 
of sight of the gloomy pile of stones wherein we had 
undergone such memorable experiences. Within an 
hour we had come to the cross-road of the valley and 
saw again before us the walls of the mountain inn 
where Roussel and the rest had died. Bidding San- 
tron ride on with the greater part of the squad I halted 
with Poignet d’Acier and half-a-dozen chasseurs. 

We made but a brief stay at the house of Giacomo ; 
yet we well accomplished the purpose of our visit. 
When we rode away the flames were roaring fiercely 
about the great stone walls that had witnessed the 
murder of our comrades. 

Throughout the whole of the evening’s march, the 
story of the maitre cCarmes gave me much food for 
thought. Grief for my slaughtered parents oppressed 
me. Yet mingling with my sorrow came alwa3’'S the 
remembrance that they had bequeathed to me a blood 
and a name that ranked with the noblest. 

And I, the heretofore violent upholder of the Revolu- 
tion, felt no depression at learning that I was an aristo- 
crat. On the contrary, what I had despised I now 
held to be of priceless value. It made me the equal 
of Aliandra. 

Three hours riding and w^e were well upon our way 
to the ])lains of Italy. That night my lovely prisoner 
slept in the only chamber of a little farmhouse, my men 
and I making bivouac upon the ground outside. But 
though the sod I lay upon wms no harder than ground 
I had thought soft enough a hundred times within the 
year, I could not sleep. 

The pale face and beautiful eyes of my captive as I 
had just escorted her to the farmhouse rose up before 
me. Her shrinking bashfulness as I had lifted her ex- 


222 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


quisite form from the saddle, her blushing face, her 
trembling hand, her drooping head slightly turned from 
me as I bowed before her at the entrance of the house, 
the soft faltering tones in which with appealing yet 
piteous smile she asked me, “At what time must I 
arise to-morrow morning, monsieur le marquis? ” made 
me think she feared me as her jailer, that her timidity 
arose from the knowledge that I had military authority 
over her. 

Fool that I was ! In those days I knew but little of 
women and their ways. But I was about to receive 
instructions in that line. 

Next morning found us again on our way to Milan. 

By every means in my power I contrived that the 
tender limbs of the Lady Aliandra, should be spared 
all unnecessary fatigue. Daily we took the road at a 
late hour in the morning, proceeding with frequent 
halts and restings, and completed our march long be- 
fore sunset. 

Distasteful and irksome indeed the journey must 
have seemed to my dashing, dare-devils of chasseurs, 
who, with shakos pushed off their foreheads, feet swing- 
ing free from their stirrups, pipes in mouth, jackets un- 
buttoned, sat their horses in the loosest fashion and 
under their breaths cursed the plodding walk to which 
their leader’s fancy condemned them. 

These ready war-dogs ever lusted for danger, and 
pined to be once more with the army where peril was 
rife and glory was to be gained. 

But if they suffered under the torment of their im- 
patience, their officer whom they blamed for their de- 
lay underwent tortures of the damned. 

For, from now on, the Lady Aliandra made it plain 
to me that the relations between us w^ere to be hence- 
forth those of captive and jailer. Not once did she 
address me, except in answer to questions directly 
put. My solicitous inquiries as to the comfort of her 
saddle, the gait of her horse, her choice of the hour 
for beginning or terminating the day’s march, the ac- 
commodations granted her when we came to the night’s 
resting-place — all were replied to with a patient pride 
that said, in a way more cutting than the words them- 
selves would have done, ''Monsieur, I beg you do not 
trouble me,” 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


223 


My aid in mounting or alighting from her horse she 
invariably managed to evade, summoning Poignet 
d’Acier or even the red-haired Santron to her assistance 
with a kindness of voice that made her cold manner to 
me much cooler by contrast. 

Heavens and earth, did she like their attentions better 
than my own ? I cursed beneath my breath. For I 
betrayed not my misery. My pride would not let me 
show her how her conduct pained me. With unfailing 
patience I met her almost hourly acts of slight. To 
my torment sometimes I caught the jeers of my men 
who in their rough way guessed my passion. 

It was not joy to hear old Mauran mutter : “ Torine 
de Ciely the haughty minx will not be as distant to 
our all-conquering general as she is to a lieutenant of 
chasseurs." 

But all the time there was a strange pity in my heart 
for the girl as I looked upon her supreme beauty, for 
now we were approaching Milan, and I shuddered ; 
“ Bonaparte I what ivill he doivith her d" . 

So we came into the capital of Lombardy to find the 
commander-in-chief had gone to the front, and also to 
hear strange rumors of reverses to our arms. The 
sullen attitude of the people in the streets confirmed 
these ; but Poignet d’Acier and I would not believe, 
even a check could come to Bonaparte and the Army 
of Italy. 

“There is a strange tale though about ‘ Le Petit 
Corporal,’ muttered the maitre d'armes. “They say 
that he is out of sorts.” 

“ He is ill 'i ” I asked eagerly. 

“Yes ! heartsick ! ’Tis the gibe here, that a certa.n 
dancer. La Favorita, of wondrous beauty, after making 
Bonaparte forget his marriage vows, has slighted our 
general even to his face.” 

“ Slighted him I Could the courtesan dare.? How .? 
Why .? ” cried Santron angrily. 

“Why .? Parhleu! This is the most incredible part 
of it!” guffawed D’Acier. “La Favorita’s serving- 
wench declares that ever since one day her mistress 
put eyes on some unknown sergeant of chasseurs, the 
dancer has refused the love of any one.” 

In this part of the conversation I did not join, though 
at the mention of a sergeant of chasseurs my cheeks 


224 


THE GIP'T OF BONAPARTE 


grew flaming red, perchance because I saw a strange 
look in the fair face of my captive as she rode beside 
me ; for now we had left Milan, my orders being to 
lake my prisoner to Bonaparte in person, and he was 
on the Mincio preparing to meet the Austrian veteran 
Wurmser, that energetic warrior having with eighty 
thousand men debouched from the Tyrol to raise the 
siege of Mantua. 

Upon the line of the river, made famous by past 
victories, Bonaparte, with forty thousand awaited his 
approach. 

Therefore I had ridden out of Milan and was headed 
for Borghetto to do my orders and deliver up to his 
punishment, the lovely girl who rode beside me. Yet 
as I looked upon her beauty, despair was in my soul, 
and this day into my head came a wild scheme of mu- 
tiny, for as we rode I noted that Lady Aliandra had 
begun to droop. 

A strange pathetic look had come into her face ; her 
eyes had shame in them as well as despair. Did she 
fear the vengeance of Bonaparte, or his lust, or both ? 

Could I be instrument to deliver this being that I 
adored, to cruel punishment or brutal outrage ? 

So we pressed on, always getting near to the French, 
and also to the Austrians I 

After passing Lodi on the 14 th Thermidor, we heard 
as we rode, far away towards the east, the unmistak- 
able jarring growl of the cannon. This told me the 
armies were in touch. 

Beyond the French lines, were the white-coated in- 
fantry, where the Contessa Campogiacinto would be 
received in all esteem and honor, aye, more, — as a friend 
and ally, for I had heard she had relations high in the 
Austrian court. 

Within the enemy’s lines for her was safety ! And 
I had but — 

I stopped myself with a moan. So we rode on, a 
kind of hell within me. 

By nightfall of the next day we had reached a small 
wayside inn, perhaps ten miles from Castiglione. 
The booming of cannon was now more distinct. 
Throughout the day we liad journeyed unexcited by the 
voice of War. Those whom we met claimed victory 
on the day before for the French. 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


225 


Desirous as I was of trustworthy information, my 
heart gave a sudden bound, as riding up to the little 
hostelry I recognized the form ofTric-trac, standing 
beside a great brown horse that a bare-legged hostler 
was watering. The juggler had parted from us on the 
da)^ after leaving the house of Giacomo, alleging that 
he had work to do which prevented his longer stay in 
our company. 

Upon my calling to him, he turned and came hastily 
to Cassius’s side with every token of surprise and dis- 
satisfaction in his countenance. 

“ Tetc-dieu, but I’m sorry to see you here with the con- 
tessa, Sans-barbe, ” he began, resting his hand on the 
withers of my gaunt bay. '' Sacre! you are pursuing 
the wrong road, my friend. To the rear, at the best 
gait you can, and thank the Fates that you ran upon 
me and received my warning.” 

'' Peste, Tric-trac ! One would imagine that the 
Kaiserlicks might come into view at any moment ! ” I 
muttered, a hope in my heart that made me shudder. 

“Nay, it’s not so bad as that,” the mountebank re- 
plied. “You can rest here to-night with perfect 
security. Yet be on the road at dawn, and have your 
horse’s noses pointed in the direction whence you 
came.” 

“ My orders are to join Bonaparte, even if I have to 
follow him to Vienna.” 

“And a decidedly good chance he stands of going 
thither, only 'twill be as a prisoner of war instead of 
a conqueror.” 

“ A prisoner of war.? ” I echoed astounded. 

“Aye, the dice have run against him at last. Into a 
very pretty fix our dear little general has got the Army 
of Italy,” Tric-trac observed with a grin of disgust. 
“Since you’re ignorant of what has been done. I’ll tell 
you what the campaign has brought forth for us so far. 
On the nth Thermidor, Quasdanowich with twenty 
thousand Imperialists came down the western shore 
of Lake Garda and took Salo. On the same day 
VVurmser himself stormed La Corona and Rivoli on the 
other side of the lake, wrenching those important posi- 
tions from Massena.” 

“ Masse'na ! never ! You are lying,” I burst out. 

Don’t lose.your temper, Sans-barbe, 'tis true 1 For 

15 


226 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


all the skill and courage of the Genoese Jew he had to 
fall back,” the mountebank asserted stoutly. “Before 
the advance of the Austrians both of our wings retired 
on the 1 2th. That night Bonaparte called a council- 

OF-WAR. ” 

I actually bounded in my saddle. 

Par Dieu ! but you have overdone it!” I cried. 
“You can’t make me believe that the Little Corporal 
ever did that ! ” 

“But he did,” Tric-trac retorted, “and what’s the 
result of it.? Wurmser has passed the Adige and the 
Mincio with forty thousand troops. With two divisions 
of infantry and one of cavalry he has entered Mantua 
and raised the siege ! ” 

DiahJe P' 

' “But that’s not the worst of it! Bayalitsch is ad- 
vancing upon Lonato ; Sauret has abandoned Salo ; 
Valette’s division relinquished the heights of Castigli- 
one upon the approach of the Austrians under Liptai.” 

^'Tonnerre de del!” I muttered. 

“You may well say that! Matters look desperate, 
eh.? Still, my boy, I can give you one ray of hope. 
The spell of that accursed dancer has fallen from him. 
The Little Corporal has regained his head ; he’s him- 
self again.” 

“What has he done.?” I asked eagerly. 

“ Arranged everything to fight it out to-morrow, and 
with all of his accustomed confidence and spirit, too. 
Guyeux is to retake Salo ; and if it can be done he’s 
the man for the task. With Masse'na’s division the 
Commander-in-Chief will try Lonato once more. Au- 
gereau will move against Liptai at Castiglione. The 
1 6th Thermidor will be a day of blood, Sans-barbe. 
But I must not stay longer. I’m off to Cremona — 
special business from headquarters. Best take my 
word and turn you horse’s head to-morrow.” 

“And how about your ape.? ” I asked, for 1 had no 
wish to disclose my future actions. 

“Agricola has too great a liking for the sound of 
guns. I’ve left him shut up in the safety of a stable,” 
replied the juggler, and hurried off, leaving me with 
an awful temptation in my heart, /hr Tric-trads words 
told me the Austrian lines iverc very near. 

The following morning with all despatch we got to 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


227 


horse, for now I felt my one salvation as a soldier was 
getting my captive to Bonaparte before her despairing 
eyes made me a traitor. 

Guided by the crash of cannon that roared in augment- 
ing volume upon our ears, with every successive mile 
we covered, I struggled to the front. All along the 
horizon the sulphurous smoke-clouds were rising, and 
we knew that under their suffocating canopies men 
were dying by scores, while the Republic and the 
Empire struggled once more for the mastery. 

Away to the north on our left the smoke rolled and 
the cannon growled about the huts of Salo, which 
Guyeux had taken from the Austrians during the early 
morning hours, and was now holding in the face of 
furious efforts made by Quasdanowich to re-occupy the 
place. 

Far to the south the din of close and terrible conflict 
came from the heights of Castiglione, where the de- 
termined Augereau leading his grenadiers in person, 
on foot with drawn saber amid the hail of bullets, was 
wrenching, inch by inch, from the grasp of Liptai the 
ground abandoned by the timid Valette. 

Advancing until we gained the head of a column of 
dragoons that occupied the high road we saw the stag- 
gering ranks of our somewhat demoralized and half- 
beaten infantry that still strove to make head against 
the steady approach of the long white lines of foemen 
that were debouching under cover of their flaming guns 
from the village of Lonato. 

On both flanks they overlapped us, ever extending 
the menacing wall that threatened soon to envelop us 
completely, despite the energetic resistance of the thin 
lines of tirailleurs with which Bonaparte was attempt- 
ing to protect his wings. 

Above the crackle of musketry, the shriek of shells, 
and the roar of the sullen artillery, bugle signals and the 
roll of drums could now be heard from our apparently 
demoralized center. This indicated that amid the 
shroud of mingled smoke and dust that hung about 
them, our infantry were forming close column. 

“ Cavalry to the front ! ’’shouted an aide-de-camp as 
he dashed up to the colonel of the dragoon regiment. 
“The Little Corporal has thrown the i 8 th and 32ddemi- 
brigades into column of attack and will himself lead 


228 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


them on to try the Kaiserlick center. You’re to sup- 
port them, colonel, advance your men, for they’re 
moving already.” 

Even as he spoke the ringing cheers of the infantry 
came in wild hurrahs across the plain, as sternly and 
without flinching those sturdy veterans advanced 
upon the triumphant line of the enemy, now fatally 
weakened by the too wide extension of its flanks. 

As we drew nigh the heart of the combat, the noise 
seemed to redouble, the crashing volleys of musketry 
were close and continuous. Yet with butt and bayonet 
the head of our column won its way, and a frantic yell of 

Toujour s la victoire !"' announced that the center of 
the Austrians was broken. 

Dismayed by the separation of their army, the left of 
Bayalitsch’s corps at once began a retrograde move- 
ment toward the Mincio, while the right wing retired 
in the direction of Salo, hoping for a union with 
Quasdanowich, whose cannon were still heard beyond 
the town. 

A horseman in the dress of the staff, goring with piti- 
less spurs the flanks of the gallant sorrel that carried 
him thundered along in front of the supporting dra- 
goons. A bullet had carried away his chapeau. The 
features of the fiery Junot, called by the soldiers ^‘the 
Tempest ” were recognized by all. 

Led by him the regiment fell upon the enemy who 
were striving to gain Salo, and though Junot himself, 
charging too impetuously, after killing six of the enemy 
with his own hand in an attempt to capture Colonel 
Bender of the Austrian hussars, was cut down and left 
for dead in a ditch, the retreat of our foemen was 
turned into a rout, they losing many killed and made 
prisoners. 

But all that day I could not get near the General-in- 
Chief. Ah ! Who could guess at what point our little 
corporal would be on the field of battle and — the field 
of glory .? For now the shouts of our soldiers and their 
hot pursuit told that victory had fallen to us. 

At the center of our position I learned from a staff 
officer as he spurred past me, that Bonaparte had 
gone to join Augereau at Castiglione. 

But after a hot ride, when we reached the quariier- 
general at that place, I was again greeted by disap- 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


229 


pointment. News had arrived that Wurmser was mov- 
ing in all haste from Mantua to the aid of his 
lieutenants ; and that Bonaparte had hurriedly ridden 
to Lonato to hasten the march of Massena’s troops who 
would concentrate upon those of Augereau. 

Once more I turned the footsteps of Cassius towards 
the north, and, followed by my party, struggled on 
over a country road now blocked at times by convoys 
of wounded and of prisoners. 

But, though this day had not been hard riding for 
my tough troopers, I saw that her excitement, and 
perchance despair, had told upon my captive. There- 
fore I halted for the night at a little hamlet a few miles 
before reaching Lonato. 

There, during the twilight, in the little lane just out- 
side the village inn my temptation came to me. 

All that day the misery in Aliandra’s face had put a 
dagger in my heart. All that day I had noticed that 
she had grown strangely excited whenever we were 
near the thunder of the Austrian guns or could see the 
white-coated soldiers of the German infantry. In 
curious contrast, whenever it was announced that 
we were drawing nigh to Bonaparte, Aliandra’s eyes 
had in them a wild look of terror ; she trembled and 
quivered and seemed to become ashamed. 

My temptation came upon me doubly strong because 
her lips tempted me. 

It was soon after dusk that a string of carts loaded 
with wounded from the front rumbled through the little 
street and stopped, that water might be given to the 
parched throats of their occupants. 

In this business my men joined, I taking ready hand 
with them. 

While I was handling rope and bucket at the little 
well in the yard of the inn, my captive stepping from the 
hostlery, came eagerly towards me. 

“Have I your permit to leave my room in the 
auberge, Monsieur Lieutenant.? ” she asked diffidently." 

3Ion Dieu ! how she wounded me. 

“Can I not help you succor those poor fellows out 
there.?" she questioned appealingly. 

“Yes, and thank your good heart, too, mademoi- 
selle," I muttered, as I gave her a bucket of cool spring 
water dnd a tin cup. 


230 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


With this she tripped gracefully out into the little 
dusty street, and I stepping after her, for I hated 
to take my devouring eyes off her beauty, could see 
la coniessa give not only refreshments unto my com- 
rades stricken in battle, but woman s tenderness and 
woman’s sympathy. Her kindly voice revived among 
the war-scarred veterans to whom she ministered, the 
memories of distant home, and I heard one of them, an 
old grenadier of the line, whisper, Dieu merci, but 
your sweet face makes me think, mademoiselle citoy- 
enne, of loved eyes that I shall never see again in dear 
Provence.’' 

Among those Aliandra served, were several Austrian 
wounded who, in the hurry of field-surgery, had not 
been separated from our men. As she looked upon 
these white-coats I could see the girl’s eyes become 
curiously eager, and strangely excited. 

Once or twice she passed her white hand over her 
forehead as if she struggled with resolve. 

Then when the little convoy had rumbled on into 
the darkness she came to me and, placing an appealing 
hand upon my arm, murmured: “A word with you. 
Monsieur le Marquis, or perhaps I, your prisoner, 
should call you Lieutenant Luc ! ” 

Turning to her I gazed upon the suffering beauty of 
the being I loved. 

“You wish to speak to me, mademoiselle /^” I mut- 
tered. I looked about. My troopers were all inside the 
inn save a sentry posted at either end of the village. 
No one was near us. 

“Your comm£iX\^s, mademoiselle /” I asked. 

“Not commaiids, but entreaties! I wish you to 
release me from my parole.” 

“Impossible, mademoiselle I Your word once given 
cannot be recalled.” Then I murmured entreatingly, 
'‘MonDieuf don’t compel me again to put guard or 
restraint upon you 1 ” 

“But you must. For I tell you,” she began haugh- 
tily, “ I shall attempt to fly ! The Austrian guns which 
signify liberty are loo 7iear to me. If opportunity comes, 
I shall not be able to restrain myself !” Then she burst 
out piteously : “Think to what you are taking me 1 
1 could bear death, but these whisperings of your brutal 
soldiers tell of worse to me. They hint me that your 


f 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 23 1 

general, though he may spare my life, will perchance 
not spare what I value more than life ! 

“ 'Tis, but the rough chatter of the troopers,” I whis- 
pered reassuringly. “ The Little Corporal is stern to 
traitors, but — ” 

“But in every town of Italy he has had a maid to 
bribe him for mercy to her country,’’ whispered the girl ; 
then, with determination in her tone she cried : But I 
will not be one of these ! I am here to tell you I will try 
to escape. For your own safety put guard upon me, 
that when you reach your general he may not punish 
you for not having done your duty ! ” 

“Still I will not accept your parole.” 

Her haughty eyes had the light of intense resolve 
within them ; though her face, even as she spoke of 
what was before her, had blushed in the moonlight 
till it was red as fire. But now as she continued she 
grew pale again. 

“Impossible!” she whispered, then broke out at 
me, a kind of jeering despair, mingled with the music 
of her voice : “And this is the man who once said he 
loved me ! This man who will take me like a lamb to 
the slaughter — perhaps even to shame ! If your General 
spares me the executioner, they say he will not spare me 
outrage ! ” she faltered, a kind of terror in her voice, 
next whispered, “I beg you, monsieur, let me try to 
escape in some position whereyour troopers can surely 
shoot me down, let me die in the road I Don’t take me 
to Bonaparte I Madonna mia, give me the doom even 
of the noose I Let me die like the others that you slew 
in the mountains, but not — not — not the mercy of 
Bonaparte 1 ” 

Her shudders, her despair, her appeal to my love 
made me, as I looked at her, even more desperate than 
she. 

I whispered : “You thinly within the Austrian lines 
there is safety for you ? ” 

“Yes! within those lines safety, joy, happiness, 
innocence ! ” 

“Then to-morrow morning,” I glanced hurriedly 
around, for I was trembling. There was no chance 
of an ear upon my words, but I spoke so low my breath 
scarce fanned her pretty ear. “To-morrow morning 
you shall he wilhm the Austrian lines /” 


232 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


“ You 77iean it ? ” 

“ By my soul and by my love ! ” 

“ And your reward ? ” Aliandra whispered. She was 
trembling now. 

“ Whatever gratitude, when safe within the Austrian 
lines, an Italian coniessa may give to a poor soldier of 
France who, for her love, has made himself a traitor, 
and dishonored his uniform ; to man prescribed and 
accursed ! ” 

“ You — you mean that also t 

“ By the faith of the Marquis de St. Luc ! Look on 
my face and see ! ” 

She looked ! She believed ! 

“The Virgin bless you!” she murmured. Then 
suddenly two superbly rounded arms, the muscles 
swelling under their ivory skin, came around my neck, 
two rosebud lips, dewy with ardent love, kissed mine, 
and I, the accursed of man, the traitor to the tricolor, 
was, for one moment — happy ! 

The next she had flitted from me and vanished 
witin the shadows of the inn. 

I glanced up and down the street. No one had seen 
the interview ; my sentries were both patrolling at the 
farther ends of the little lane, but still the terror of the 
deserter was upon me. 

From out the inn door strolled Poigent d’Acier. 

As he sucked his pipe he jeered : “This philander- 
ing with a contessa is too much for thy nerves, Mon- 
siur le Marquis. Nom de Dieu I Lieutenant Sans-barbe, 
you have a face like that of a grenadier who I saw strike 
his colo7iel!*’ 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE. 

When a soldier has mutiny in his mind, the devil 
generally finds him quick opportunity. 

Mine came to me soon enough. 

Within the hour another string of carts fdled with 
wounded, traveling at night because it was cooler, 
rumbled through the streets of the village and made a 
short halt to permit refreshment. 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


233 


I assisted my men in drawing cool water from the 
well and carrying it out to the sufferers. While doing 
this, I noticed the last few wagons were full of Austrian 
wounded, made prisoners that day. Recognizing these 
by their uniforms, which gleamed white in the moon- 
light ; as I gave water to our enemies, I thought I 
might obtain information of the location of the Austrian 
forces from some one of them. 

The soldiers of the Emperor had received an awful 
defeat ; doubtless they would soon retreat. Before 
they were out of reach I must contrive to get the con- 
tessa safe within their lines. 

Many of the Kaiserlicks were too far gone to do 
more than quaff greedily the refreshing fluid, but 
one, a sergeant of Tyrolean yaggers, but slightly 
wounded in the leg, seemed much more talkative. 

“ You were captured to-day .? ” I remarked to him. 

“Yes, but four hours ago, as we retreated from Salo 
towards Brescia. 

“Yes, you were pretty nearly exterminated. But 
sacre, it is always so, when our Little Corporal com- 
mands in person,” I suggested triumphantly. Even 
in my treachery I gloried in our victory. 

^^ Der Teufel! Our brigade was not broken up. You 
have not yet done with us ! ” the man said angrily. 

“Bah ! ” I replied, anxious to lead him into discus- 
sion. “What do you think a few thousand of you 
will do now that you are defeated and cut off.? To- 
morrow you will surrender ! ” 

“ Never ! ” snarled the Tyrolean sergeant ; then 
laughed grimly, “To-morrow they will cut their way 
through to Mantua and join Wurmser ; or I don’t know 
the general who commanded us to-day.” This was 
uttered confidently, almost defiantly. 

“ Your brigade is then located near Brescia .? ” I said 
carelessly. 

“ Near enough for it to take the road to Mantua ! ” 
growled the sergeant, as I handed him another can of 
water. “Thanks for your courtesy, Herr Lieutenant ! ” 
Then he closed his mouth, thinking perhaps he had 
said too much already ; for though I plied him with a 
few more questions I got 110 answer from him except : 
“ You French will see ! ” 

But this was information enough for me. From the 


234 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


neighborhood of Brescia the Austrians must pass along 
the road towards Lonato. 

Five minutes after, I knocked at the chamber of 
Aliandra. 

‘ ‘ Who is there ? What do you want ? " the girl spoke 
through the portal. 

“ It is I, Lieutenant Luc ! ” Open your door a little 
that I may give you your orders for to-morrow ! ” I 
cried brusquely. Some of the men might be in hearing. 

This she did and I whispered, “Be ready to take 
horse at four o’clock to-morrow morning.? You under- 
stand .? ” 

“Yes ! ” replied my captive softly. “Thank you ! 
Monsieur le Marquis."' Then she suddenly extended a 
white hand through the opening. Upon its fingers I 
placed my lips tenderly, devotedly. 

Going from her, the night seemed as black to me as 
my treachery, as I thought my project well out. Early 
in the morning I determined, using my authority as 
officer, I would take Aliandra with me in advance of 
my troopers. Then contriving to fall in with the march 
of the Austrians, by them, I would be captured with 
my prisoner. 

No blame would fall on me, it would only be the 
fortune of war ! 

But the next morning I found Poignet dAcier and 
Santron had made this plan impossible. 

I did not sleep and at four o’clock, stood at the door 
of the auberge awaiting her. But there I found the 
maiire diarvies and the sergeant who had all my troop- 
ers up cleaning their horses ; they are anxious to get to 
headquarters and join their regiment. 

‘ ' P a7’hleu ! remarked the gruff Santron. To-day 
we will get this nasty job finished and our rebel jailed. 
’Twas hard all yesterday to ride upon the outskirts of 
a battle and not fire one shot or strike one blow for 
promotion and the Republic ! ” 

“You, I see, my lieutenant, are up early and equally 
eager ! ” added Poignet dAcier, a curious tremble in 
his voice. “So likewise our prisoner ! ” and he turned 
grimly towards the fair girl, who, in her riding-habit, 
was standing in the doorway of the inn, ready for her 
ride to the Austrian lines. 

It was evident now that I could not leave my troop- 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


^35 


ers without explanation, and I had no logical one for 
avoiding their escort. Had they been tardy or un- 
prepared I might have jogged out of the village in ad- 
vance of them. 

“There is no great hurry, Santron ! I remarked 
casually. “See that the men have breakfast before we 
start ! " and stepping into the inn ordered refreshment 
for myself and Aliandra. At this meal, her glorious eyes 
gave me an impatient and inquiring glance, yet one of 
such heart-breaking entreaty, and yet perchance such 
promise, that I came out doubly a traitor, and looking 
at my men as they were saddling up, muttered to my 
self : Par Dieu / They will have it ! 

For now I felt that my troopers must be captured as 
well as I. Then the devil coming into my heart, said: 
“This will not even make you a suspect; you will 
simply have suffered the fate that may come to any 
brave soldier surrounded and overpowered." 

With that my eyes grew misty. Diahle ! would not 
my troopers make resistance.? Would they be not cut 
down fighting because I had led them to the Austrian 
bayonets? Poignet d’Acier would not be likely to 
surrender very quickly, neither would any of the rest. 
And I, their officer — 

But the thought drove me crazy. 

Turning away with gloomy face from them, I saw 
her beauty and her innocence! Could I give her up to 
military punishment? Could I place my darling a 
prey to the passions of a military despot ? For that 
was what I, lashed by my fears, now called the general 
I had once adored. 

One look at her gave me resolve ; for Aliandra had 
in her now what she had gradually lost, as we ap- 
proached the commander-in-chief — hope! 

Her eyes were brilliant with nervous anxiety, her 
mouth piquantly pleading, her lips trembling yet dewy 
and rosy, her beauty would have made any man her 
slave yet her adorer. 

Getting on our way some little time after six o’clock, 
we rode briskly towards the north, I guessing if the 
Tyrolean y agger’s words were true, that on the road 
to Lonato I would meet the Austrian infantry. 

We rode quite fast ; 1 had become desperate to get 
my crime consummated and my torture at an end. 


236 THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 

besides, every time the graceful creature riding at my 
side turned her glance upon me it asked “ When ? ” 

Some hours after this from a moderate rise in our 
path, I saw a half mile beyond us the Lonato road 
dusty and hot under the burning sun, but upon it no 
trace of white-coated Austrians. 

“Halt the platoon, Santron ! ” I cried. “ Take good 
charge of our prisoner. I will ride to that hill just in 
advance of us and reconnoiter to see that all is safe.” 

“ The Kaiserlicks are beaten and have retreated!** 
muttered the sergeant doggedly. 

“ But there may be broken and wandering fragments 
of them wandering about the country,” I replied. 
“Besides, these are my orders.” 

Then the men halted. I saw Poignet d’Acier give a 
curious look at Santron, as I put spurs to Cassius and 
galloped up the sharp rise to the top of a neighboring 
hill. 

From this eminence I had a fair view of the land- 
scape. In front of me, rolling land some four or five 
hundred yards to the Lonato road ; beyond it rugged 
country made green by clumps of trees with just a 
glimpse of the lake Di Garda, now blue as steel under 
the Italian sun. 

But it was to the left that I glanced anxiously. 

Along the road coming from Brescia were no signs 
of marching Austrians. The information of the T yrolean 
was not true. “I shall not save Aliandra ! ” I mut- 
tered, and my heart grew heavy and my eyes haggard. 

Then suddenly I gave a little cry ! From the neigh- 
boring hills that cut off my view, a cloud of dust was 
flying 1 A column of white-coated Austrian infantry 
was marching down. Within ten minutes my love 
would be safe from military vengeance and I forever 
accursed and a traitor 1 

Casting my eyes towards my right, to see that there 
was naught to interfere with my awful plan, my glance 
came upon the white walls of the town of Lonato, 
scarce half a mile along the road. 

In it apparently a few French troops, so few that 
they would be swept away at the first charge of the 
heavy Austrian column. 

Still there must be more of our men, I reflected, for 
I distinctly saw a picket of the Guides, the general-in- 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 237 

chiefs bodyguard, standing beside their horses at the 
entrance of the principal street. 

Diahle / He is there ! Bonaparte ! To whom I am 
to lead my captive to receive her punishment ! To the 
left is her safet)^ ; to the right is her despair. 

But still as I looked with shaded eyes, though I 
could see the general headquarters flag flying in the 
town of Lonato, there was scarce a battalion of 
French, and beyond it — Nom de Dieu! more white- 
coated infantry were coming in solid column from the 
east. 

In a moment I understood ! Before my eyes flashed 
the military situation. 

The French, everywhere victorious, had everywhere 
pushed on in pursuit of the beaten Austrians, and now, 
by the strange chance of war, two flying portions of 
the beaten army were converging from both sides upon 
the headquarters of their conqueror, the man who held 
Italy, nay, the destiny of France, my country, within 
his care. The half-regiment would be a flea-bite to two 
brigades of Austrians. Bonaparte would be captured. 
With a groan I thought : What will the army do with- 
out Le Petit Corporal, who leads them always to vic- 
tory ? What will France do without him P For if these 
Kaiserlicks capture Bonaparte, they will never give 
him up ! 

Then the mist cleared from my eyes ! 

I forgot my love ; I became only a soldier of France 
who must save his general ! 

I waved my hand, ordering my troops to come on, 
and galloped down the hill to meet them. 

As they clattered up the road I joined them, crying, 
in a hoarse voice : Quick ! Save him ! Follow me ! 

“What do you mean V' shouted d’Acier. 

“Follow me and save Bonaparte! He is uncon- 
scious of his danger ! The Austrians are on both sides 
of the town ! A demi-regiment only wi;\hin it and 
Bonaparte there ! Quick ! ’’ and I drove the rowels into 
Cassius’ sides. 

In almost an instant I was in the Lanato road. With 
a hoarse shriek and muttered curses my troopers were 
behind me. 

As we entered the highway two troops of Austrian 
cavalry came charging down upon us. 


238 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


“Don’t fight now! First warn the Emperor!’’ I 
cried to Santron, who doggedly would have crossed 
sabers with them. 

Then, suddenly discovering I was perjured, the con- 
tessa, with a little cry, had desperately turned her horse 
to gallop towards the Austrians. But the sergeant’s 
firm hand was on her wrist, and she rode with us a 
prisoner still. 

Look at her face I dared not. yet I knew it said, 
“Thou lied to me when you said you loved me ! ” 

But I was a soldier now, true soldier, thank God, to 
my country, to the Republic, to my general ! and 
I dashed the rowels in my steed. 

“Dost know, my lieutenant,” muttered Poignet 
d’Acier, spurring beside me, “ that Santron and I 
thought her witchery had made you traitor.? We were 
watching you. Had you led us into the Austrian 
lines, my sword had come out between thy shoulders. 
Forgive me, my Georges, for doubting- that you were 
true to thy oath and to thy colors ! ” and the old maitre 
d’armes embraced me as we rode on desperately to- 
gether. 

So we came foaming up to the houses of Lonato. 
The Austrian squadron halted, and an officer, a single 
horseman, galloped from them at full speed, following 
us to the outpost. 

Recklessly and boldly he rode, scarce deigning to 
wave once or twice a white handkerchief he carried in 
his hand. 

Even as we reached the troopers of the Guides, the 
Austrian cried to me, “I bear a summons to sur- 
render ! We are in such force you cannot resist ! ” 

I glanced back. Beyond him from the hills above 
the town a brigade of white-coated infantry was pour- 
ing down and deploying on the plain — to the East more 
white coats marching in solid column ! 

“Detain this officer here! Let no one speak to 
him ! See that all remain silent in his presence ! 
Moreover, bandage his eyes ! ” I whispered to the 
sergeant in command of the outpost, a sturdy not 
over-intelligent appearing sahreur. “ Not a word ! ” as 
the sergeant seemed about to utter a protest. “You 
have my orders, obey them or you’ll pay for it. My 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


239 

men remain here with the picket. Guard the co7itessa, 
Poi<^net d'Acier as you would your life.” 

Cassius bounded along the street of Lonato, and 
presently I flung myself out of the saddle before an inn 
where a score of saddle-horses held by orderlies de- 
noted the presence of the staff. 

del I not a dawdling aide-de-cainp guessed the 
strait they all were in ! 

“General Bonaparte .? ” I demanded of the offlcer in 
charge of the guard at the door. 

“You can’t enter now,” he returned. “The whole 
of them are occupied and — ” 

''Darnel I must see him, man, and at once. Take 
me to him this moment. It coiicerns the safety of the 
army.” 

Impressed by my earnest tone he offered no further 
opposition, but piloted me at once into the presence 
of the Commanderdn-Chief who was at that moment 
entirely alone, not even Bertliier being in the room 
with him. 

Bonaparte’s eagle glance fixed me as I came forward. 
Even as I saluted he spoke my name. 

“Ha! Lieutenant Luc at last,” he said coldly. 
“ You have at length put in your tardy appearance, 
days after the return of all the other detachments em- 
ployed in the mountains. You must have done your 
work there most thoroughly to judge by the time you 
have taken to perform it.” 

“You shall hear my report and decide upon what I 
have accomplished presently, Citizen General,” I an- 
swered. “ Before I tell you ” — 

Impatiently he interrupted me. 

"Presently ! Sacrel but I like that I You intend 
to take your own time for explaining, do you.? Pres- 
ently ! And why not at once ? ” 

“ Because more important matters I have to relate 
first,'' I said rapidly. "Mon ghieral, a body of Aus- 
trian infantry, several thousands, are surrounding the 
town. An officer sent by their commander is already 
at the picket-guard without the village bearing a sum- 
mons for surrender. I ordered them to delay him there 
and rode here at once to tell you.” 

Dame ! but the man was a human iceberg — zvtie?! he 
wished. He heard my alarming tidings without a 


240 


THE GltT OF BONAPARTE 


change of countenance. One keen flash of his cold 
eyes he cast upon mine, and' whatever else he read 
in my face he must have found truth there. 

Calmly he rose from his chair, put both hands behind 
his back and with slightly bowed head he paced the 
length of the room. 

Returning he stopped in front of me, and piercing 
me through and through with those unreadable orbs of 
steely gray, he demanded abruptly : 

“You halted the Austrian envoy at the entrance to 
the town, you say ? Why ? ” 

“They can’t know i\i2X you are here in person. 
Citizen General. If you form the staff before the inn, 
draw up what escort you have to make a show, and 
then have the Kaiserlick brought before you, he’ll be 
dumfounded when he learns that he’s come to propose 
surrender to Bonapurte. He’ll imagine that he has the 
whole army to contend with ! You can threaten them 
with death if they don’t yield. par Dieu ! theyll 

be the ones to lay down their arms.” 

As I finished, Bonaparte smiled, one of those rare 
and kindly smiles that from him marked an era in the 
life of the soldier upon whom it was bestowed. 
Reaching out his hand he seized my left ear between 
his forefinger and thumb, wringing it sharply as he 
said with a chuckle : 

“You rogue! you young devil of a chasseur I how 
did you read my thoughts P ” 

' ‘ Your thoughts, mon gen'eral P” I stammered. 

“Yes I For I had determined to do just what you 
suggest.” 

Striding out with me, he gave his orders sharply and 
promptly. 

“ Totally deceived by the imposing appearance of a 
brilliant staff and awed by the simulated anger of 
Bonaparte, the Austrian officer returned to his com- 
mander with the tidings that the general-in-chief of 
the French threatened to put to the sword their entire 
body unless they surrendered at once. 

In consequence, four thousand men of that division 
of the Imperial troops which had been driven upon Salo 
on the previous day became captive to one quarter as 
many opponents. 

The surrender of the Austrians having been secured. 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


241 

The general ordered me to follow him once more into 
his temporary quarters. 

Seating himself he began immediately : “And now, 
Lieutenant Luc, for your report. I trust you can tell 
me of success, for only the greatest will excuse your 
long absence. En avaiit, proceed with your story.” 

“ I have the honor to report that the Count Luca di 
Campogiacinto is no more, that the members of his 
band have been executed without exception,” I an- 
swered. 

“The details he demanded. 

Accurately I recounted the events of my expedition. 

When I had ceased speaking he demanded savagely, 
“The girl .? Where is she ” 

“Without! Under charge of my chasseurs, rnon 
generall ” I replied, with an effort. 

“ Bring her in. ” 

A minute after I stood before Aliandra. I could not 
speak to her ; there was a choking lump in my throat. 
I looked in her face and saw I had saved France, but 
lost her. 

Obeying my sign she followed me into the presence 
of the arbiter of her destiny — of mine also. 

Even as we entered, a short harsh exclamation from 
Bonaparte told his surprise at the beauty of the lovely 
creature that had been brought to him for punish- 
ment. 

He drew a quick sharp breath and the expression of 
his face as he continued to stare at Aliandra, made me 
regret that I had saved him. 

Well might he gaze, for never had he before him a 
fairer and a haughtier culprit. There was no shrinking 
in her glance, no more trembling in her pose, now ! 

Fronting the man who held her fate at his will, she 
stood like a Juno, the clinging cloth of her habit out- 
lining a bust as perfect as that of the Medicean Venus. 
The gathered folds of her riding skirt fell away from a 
waist so slight that even my hands might span, to 
outline limbs of beauty incomparable, from swelling 
hips to little feet, one of which in dainty riding boot, 
peeped out from its dark draperies. 

But the face above, this figure — the glorious eyes, 
the lips of red, the blushing cheeks — For face to face 
with her chastisement — the girl seemed strangely brave. 

16 


242 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


Then I grew pale myself, for I could see this beauty 
was affecting Napoleon also. 

I Fie drew a quick, short breath, and the expression of 
his face as he continued to stare at Aliandra made my 
hand itch to grasp my sabre. 

When finally he spoke his voice was harsh and with- 
out pity. 

“ I am rejoiced to see you here, mademoiselle he 
said, “extremely rejoiced. You have aided in the 
playing of some sad pranks yonder in Piedmont, you 
were concerned in the rising of those foolish peasants 
whom I was forced to punish so heavily at Pavia. 
The penalty paid by ths masses should not be remitted 
their leaders. I have information that you were active 
among these last. The case scarcely admits dispute ; 
yet if you have anything to say in mitigation of your 
crime, I will hear you.” 

“ I have no wish to deny your accusations. General 
Bonaparte,” Aliandra replied without hesitation, still 
regarding him with calm and un frightened eyes. “ I 
did urge the people to attack your army. By every 
means in my power I have done you harm. I am here 
to pay the penalty.” 

“ Sacre bleu! she has courage, this girl,” the general 
muttered under his breath. “Do you understand, 
mademoiselle,’' raising his voice, “ that by your own 
words you condemn yourself to death ? ” 

“Yes, I know,” she answered undaunted. “What 
other fate can an Italian patriot expect ivomyou ” 

The greatness of her beauty as she spoke was mag- 
nified by her unconquerable courage. I set my teeth 
hard. The desire to stretch her inquisitor dead at her 
feet was tearing my heart asunder. If he kept us there 
much longer I felt that I would again forget he was 
my general. 

Bonaparte paced the room after hearing her resolute 
reply. For fully two minutes he meditated. Halting 
at last before her, he exclaimed, not attempting to veil 
the admiration he experienced. 

^'ParDieu! I cannot do it! To give the order to 
execute so beautiful a being would be a crime ! A 
spirit such as yours should not be extinguished 1 Yet, 
mademoiselle, you must be punished. What shall I do 
with you } ” 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 243 

His glance more than his words suggested the idea 
her beauty had placed within his mind. 

A flash of her great eyes told Aliandra s scorn of the 
amorous regard of Bonaparte. 

Laughing curtly as he noted her disdain, the Com- 
mander-in-Chief turned to me, 

“ Surely we should be able, to make this lovely rebel 
love France, Lieutenant Luc.? What punishment do 
you suggest.? What shall / do with her ? " 

I looked straight into his eyes, that were seeking a 
devils hint from mine. Then a rude hope — an in- 
spiration flashed through my pate. Bluntly I blurted 
out : Mon ghi'eral you have so many ! give this one 
to me ! ” 

I heard the contessa utter a little gasping exclama- 
tion as a roar of laughter from Bonaparte filled the 
room. 

“By the tricolor ! youfll never fail in this world for 
want of assurance my chasseur captain,'" heeded, when 
he could command his voice. “ Yes, I give you the 
grade, your success against the Barbets has won it, 
you’ve an eye for beauty as well as for carte and tierce, 
as I know of old. La Favorita, eh, Monsieur Beard- 
less, roue P you haven't forgotten her. I’ll wager, nor 
indeed has she — sacre f" and biting his lips he regarded 
me for some seconds with the glare of a tiger. 

“See here, my new-made captain," he presently 
said in his softest tone, “suppose I grant your auda- 
cious request and give you this girl here to treat as you 
will. Suppose I turn her over to you without reserva- 
tion, make her your spoil of war. In that case will you 
lay aside all thoughts of the other, of the queen of the 
ballerinas 

“I’ll give my word never to approach La Favorita 
again. Citizen General," I said earnestly. 

“ Then in the name of the Devil, take this one and 
welcome ! " he exclaimed with laughing satisfaction. 

“ You belong to him now, mademoiselle," he went on 
to Aliandra, who was staring at us both in turn, with 
disbelief and astonishment in her eyes. ''He is your 
punishment. Captain San-barbe shall teach you what 
it costs to rise in mutiny against France.” 

The contessa gave me one look of unutterable horror, 
the blood rushed over her white neck and dyed her soft 


244 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


cheeks a vivid crimson. Covering her face with her 
hands, she shrank back to the wall, a moan of anguish 
escaping her lips. 

I had won from him, now was the time to win from 
her ! 

''Mon general, you have my heartfelt gratitude,” I 
said in tones she could not fail to comprehend. “You 
permit me, then, to make this lady my wife.?” 

“ Your wife 

The same words, enunciated by two separate voices, 
rang through the room. The tone of Bonaparte aston- 
ished, ironical ; the voice of Aliandra agitated by every 
passion woman feels. 

“Yes, my wife ! ” I returned fiercely and decidedly. 
“General Bonaparte, I have loved this lady ever since 
I first saw her. You have given her to me, but that 
alters in no degree the respect and worship I bear her 
in my heart. If she will marry me, she will make me 
the happiest soldier upon the earth. If she refuses to 
be my wife, le Marquis' de St. Luc will continue to 
adore her ! ” 

" Le Marquis de St. Luc Y' Bonaparte laughed. 
“Why, but a month ago it was Lieutenant Sans-cu- 
loiie ! Who told you of your ancestors, Monsieur le 
Marquis .? ” 

“The same niaVre d’armes who told you of them on 
the night before Montenotte, ciiizen general!” I re- 
turned. “And proved it to me also, as I can prove it to 
you or to her, that of right I am Marquis de St. Luc ! ” 

For a second silence reigned. Then Bonaparte 
spoke half jeeringly, •' ‘ Knowing what you do, captain, 
it can scarcely be possible that you hold the same ex- 
treme sentiments you avowed to me at our first meet- 
ing. Of what political party do you belong.? ” 

Here, inspiration coming to me again, I whispered 
in his ear, " Oi your party, mon general ! Some day 
you will rule France ! When the time comes for your 
coup, remember the sword of Georges de St. Luc is at 
your service. From now on I declare myself a Bona- 
partist ! ” 

Bonaparte’s eyes flamed as he gazed into mine. The 
look of the future came upon him. I believe he saw 
Jena and Austerlitz — but scarcely Waterloo. 

" Diahle, you are a politician!” he said slowly. 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


245 


next whispered, his eyes growing cold as fate: “For- 
get this, till I remind you of it. Now,’’ he added 
briskly, “as to her.” 

“ As to her,” I cried, “I demand that this lady be 
treated with all the honor of my affianced bride ! ” 

At these words a tenderer look seemed to come into 
the eyes of Aliandra. 

“ Sapristi, Marquis ! ” jeered the general. “You are 
also a financier ! I had forgotten that the estates of 
your family have been confiscated. Mademoiselle la 
Contessa de Campogiacinto is the greatest heiress in 
all northern Italy. You are an astute lad.” 

“ Not for the estates do I woo her, but for the 
woman ! ” 

“Pish ! ” he remarked ; then turned his eyes sharply 
on the loveliness of Aliandra, who still regarded me 
like a snared bird in the fowler’s hand, and could not 
doubt my word. 

“ What say you, girl? ” continued Napoleon sharply, 
“ Wilt take for thy husband this hard-riding captain of 
chasseurs, or rather, I should say. Monsieur le Marquis 
de St. St. Luc ? ” 

“ No ! ” the answer rang out proudly, disdainfully. 

“Thou dost not love him?” he grinned, looking in 
her blushing face, which now grew deathly pale as 
Aliandra answered with freezing coldness : “I am in- 
different to Monsieur, le Marquis de St. Luc ! ” 

“ What ! ” I broke out “after last night, when — ” 
Fortunately I checked myself in time, or I had let the 
largest kind of a cat out of the bag. 

“Last night,” began the girl passionately, “I 
thought you worthy of my love. Now, from the words 
of your own general, I douhi it!" 

Mon Dieu, Aliandra I How can you say this when 
I adore you ? ” I cried. 

“ Then first a question to you, monsieur.*' The girl’s 
eyes were very haughty now, though there was a trem- 
bling whimper in her voice. “Some months ago you 
told me that you loved me ? ” 

“ With my soul ! ” 

“Again, when that night in the priest’s house — to 
save your life — I did that which might condemn me 
before the world, you told me that your love for me 
should ever be your guiding star ! ” 


246 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


“I said it from my heart ! ” ' 

“ Since then how have you kept your word P’* 

At this awful question there was a low chuckle 
from Bonaparte ; as she went on pcissionately : 
“This dancer, La Favorita, who they say allures all 
men even to general officers who have distant brides ! " 
Despite myself I grinned as I saw Napoleon wince. 
But the girl continued sternly, “ Since swearing that 
you loved me, hast thou been false to thy vows to me 
with her? Answer before thy God ! ” 

“No!” I cried desperately yet savagely. At my 
words, I heard Bonaparte chuckle to himself : '^Par- 
bleu! I interrupted that petit souper in the nick of 
time.” 

“Thank the Virgin 1 ” whispered the girl, anew light 
coming into her eyes. Then standing very erect she 
said haughtily, “ 1 am the last of my line. Prove you 
are worthy to be a prince in Italy ! ” 

“ How } ” I muttered, astounded yet very joyful. 
“I’ll show him how!** cried Bonaparte, breaking in. 
“I’ll show him how to prove he is worthy to be an 
officer of France ! ” 

Then perchance into his heart coming that passion 
for giving in marriage he afterward exercised so freely 
when as Emperor he decreed brides, willing or un- 
willing, to half the kings of Europe, he continued 
sternly: “You, my proud minx, who have dared to 
refuse a man to whom I have given you, shall become 
a nun or be his bride. Into a convent of Carmelites 
you shall go. They will be eager for you. These 
monks and friars will be ravenous to annex your prop- 
erty to the Church. The nun’s veil or thou shalt wed 
him when he becomes a colonel ! ” 

“A colonel in a single campaign I ” I cried despair- 
ingly. 

‘ ‘ Single campaign I ” 

“Yes You, mo7i general, will surely conquer Italy 
in one I ** 

“ Peste ! I was once a captain,” remarked Bona- 
parte complacently, “ and now at twenty-six I am a 
General-in-chief ! ” 

“ But I am not Napoleon !” I muttered hopelessly. 
del ! how he chuckled at my unwitting compliment. 
Tis a safe game to flatter all men — they know you 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


247 


are telling the truth. . Seeing my lucky hit I quietly 
suggested: “As chef d’escadron for delivering two 
Austrian brigades this very morning } ” 

For a moment the autocrat stared at my audacity, 
then cried : 

Par Dieu ! \i vjorih. it.^ Chef d'escadron thou 
art ! Girl, listen ! I am promoting thy lover ! Thy 
wedding day is growing nearer ! ” 

Then remembering Poignet d’Aciers fencing maxim, 
“Follow one good stroke by another,” I remarked: 
“ Her wedding day is to-day I ” 

“To-day ! I said when thou were't a colonel ! ” 
“As the Lady Alia’ndra, if wedded to a colonel on 
your staff would destroy all danger of insurrection in 
the mountains, with her as my bride you could remove 
four demi-brigades, garrisoning the passages of the 
Apenines. Reinforcements might be useful to you 
after the slaughter of yesterday ? ” 

Here suddenly Bonaparte turned to the lady of my 
love whose eyes had sought the floor, whose cheeks 
were covered with blushes, of bashfulness, of happiness, 
I prayed, and asked : “ How say you, Contessa di 
Campocinto t If thou wert wedded to a French colonel, 
would thy peasantry become my allies t ” 

“They love me much, sir ! ” Altered the girl. 

“ By all the Gods ! She is in a hwry to marry you, 
Sans-barbe ! ” chuckled Bonaparte, slapping me on the 
shoulder. 

Then summoning an officer to him, he ordered : “A 
priest within ten minutes ! ” 

“Ten minutes!” screamed Aliandra. Then blush- 
ing like an Alpine rosebud, she faltered, “ But he is not 
a colonel I ” 

'' Diable, but he is ; a colonel on my staff,” cried 
the general angrily.” Don't contradict me, made77ioi- 
selle. If you can be in a hurry, so can I. Quick, a 
priest ! Any kind will do ! ” 

“A priest!” faltered my sweetheart; then mut- 
tered, “ Georges ! ” as I caught her, for she had fainted 
in my arms. 

“ Summon all my staff ! ” ordered Bonaparte, rubbing 
his hands, “ and bring in Sans-barbe’s troop to see 
what valor, a long head and the assurance of Lucifer 
will do for a soldier.” 


248 


THE GIFT OF BONAPARTE 


Two moments after he bounced from his chair, and 
stammered. 

“ Sapristi ! What have we here ? A monkey ! ” As 
Agricola, and Tric-Trac, and Poignet d’Acier, Red 
Santron and half a dozen others of my platoon came 
rather diffidently in. To them he chuckled, “ I can’t 
give you promotion, but here is gold. All of you drink 
Colonel Sans-Barbe’s health!’' then cried: 'Wieu 
merci! The friar at last 1 ” for Bonaparte was always 
a devil of a fellow to make quick matches either for 
himself or others. 

A moment later I was introduced as Colonel Luc to 
his brilliant stagg, their general stating my rank had 
been given me for military reasons, 1 having given 
unto his hands that day four thousand Austrians. 

“ This should be a hint to you, Berthier, to keep 
better guard over your chief,” laughed Bonaparte. 

Then in a kind of haze I saw Aliandra become my 
bride. 

But even as the priest mumbled the last words over 
us that made her mine, an officer, breathless, sweaty 
and dusty came flying in. 

Saluting, he cried: “General Wurmser is in full 
advance from Mantua on the Castiglione road I ” 

“ That’s where I want him ! ” answered Bonaparte 
sharply. “No time to drink even the bride’s health or 
give her wedding gifts, but, Sans-barbe, when you take 
your bride in your arms to-night, say she is i\iG gi/t 0 / 
Bonaparte ! ” 

His escort were mounting their horses. I sprang 
up to follow him, but he stopped me and said, “A 
week’s leave of absence ! Without your saber I 
destroyed Wurmser’s right wing yesterday ! Don't you 
think I can defeat his left wing to-day by myself, my 
new made Colonel ? ” 

Then seizing Aliandra even as she rose from her 
knees before the priest, he gave her two sounding 
kisses on the lips and laughed, “Make me a godfather, 
quickly I ” 

A moment later h'e rode away to the last battles of 
of that incomparable campaign in which he drove the 
last of Wurmser’s army through the passes of the 
Tyrol and gave Italy to France. ^ g 


FINIS. 













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